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Rrrromantic

I could call myself tenacious and delusional,

But that doesn't accurately describe me at all.


Tenacious and delusional individuals have a tendency to make their tenacious delusions known explicitly. Reservation is a foreign word in their vocabulary.

These are what I call, with affection and suspicion, The Crazies, who are most likely a majority of my audience. And I wouldn't have it any other way because they always engage with the text in unexpected ways. Granted, those ways can border obsession, but I like to think of it as a compliment. A very strange and misplaced compliment.

But while these words are for everybody to enjoy, I certainly am not. Most of the things I've written have been about you, in one way or another, but I have no control over the way they are interpreted. I still have faith that you do read this from time to time, and you understand that even though I don't write your name, it couldn't be about anybody else.

That's why I'd rather call myself a Rrrromantic.

I roll the Rs to connote the extent of my furious eroticism. There's no other way.


And I give up on quitting you. I do. I don't want to stop thinking about you; even if I'm trying to make up the worst of you to convince myself otherwise.

I miss having you tangled in my bedsheets. Anybody else would be a bitter and nauseating substitute. Since I had you the first time, the Very First Time, my wandering eyes only wondered when they would see you next.

I've tried to distract myself but small-talk makes me sick and honestly, there's no other Dick I'd rather play detective with, even if it's only for a little bit.

I don't care how long it takes. I will continue to Rrrrromance you, whether or you like it or not, my delicious man.

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