It's Only A Game If

There Is Certainty In A Ring. The Non-ending, The Non-beginning. The Ongoing. The Way It Holds On To You Not Because It's Fastened Or Stretched Or Adhered. It Holds On Because It Fits.

There Is A Part Of Childhood That Is Childish, And A Part That Is Sacred. Suddenly We Are Touching The Sacred Part -- Running To The Shoreline, Feeling The First Cold Burst Of Water On Our Ankles, Reaching Into The Tide To Catch At Shells Before They Ebb Away From Our Fingers. We Have Returned To A World That Is Capable Of Glistening, And We Are Wading Deeper Within It.

This Blue Shirt I Have Is Practically The Same Color As My Jeans, And Looking All-blue Is Something Only Cookie Monster Can Pull Off.

Instead I Head To The Computer And It's Like I Turn Into A Little Girl Who's Just Seen Her First Rainbow. I Get All Giddy And Nervous And Hopeful And Despairing And I Tell Myself Not To Look Obsessively At My Buddy List, But It Might As Well Be Projected Onto The Insides Of My Eyelids. At 8:05 His Name Pops Up, And I Start To Count. I Only Get To Twelve Before His Im Pops Up.

It's Goodbye To Some Things. And Hello To Others.