yesterday's poem was kinda about how that one time you alluded to my love of things magical/mystical as "you're just a romantic" said as though that's a bad thing, as if it's my being a romantic that's causing my problems. As I wrote the poem I discovered that I know that it's not being a romantic per se that causes me to be sad. It's trying to shove what I am into molds decided by other people that makes me get emotional/long for more/feel sad and alone. The longing was never about you at all... it was for the me I would let myself be in your office but not many other places.

I have to laugh at myself here, because it's exactly that magical/mystical part of me that wants to believe that you were trying to lead me here when you said what you said in the way that you said it.

And **** pushing myself into molds designed by other people. **** that ****, I say.