Musing.

There's a thing I didn't understand at the time. Being a Muse is a full-time job in one's head.

I do set out to protect the identity of mine. Always. No matter what comes. No matter what. Come what may.

And, something the choir-boys will never understand, I'd have you in any way, shape or form.

As long as it is willingly. And only in those terms.

Meanwhile, here I remain, in my room, dreaming of a reencounter that seems more unlikely every minute that passes.

It's you that cab break the stalemate, it's very easy. Just talk to me. Directly.

That's all it takes.

What I do in my room shouldn't be a concern, should it?

No sane person can expect that I stop existing, dreaming, and hoping. I do not impose a thing on others.

But I won't dissapear. That's a road I won't take. I stepped back, worried about others giving you flak.

And they came, anyway. I can do nothing about that.

I'm only responsible for me. And my actions.