A fitting title, for more reasons than one.

I never would have thought I would do this. I always thought blogging was pointless. A product of the internet overtaking handwritten journals, in an act of literary voyeurism.
I was wrong.
That said, this is only intended to address one area of my life. I'm writing this for my own sake. So I don't forget. So I can't forget. These are the musings of an over-emotional and sentimental fool. Do not adjust your monitors, just click exit now.

‘And Chance was made flesh (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Great Fickle Father), and he dwelt among us, full of chaos, and falsehood, and whim.’ – Luke Rhinehart.

A single moment. A single chance encounter. One moment of pure coincidence leading directly, completely, to contorted anguish. Feelings of uncontaminated affection, dare love. Unfortunately, the chances we don’t take in life are eclipsed by the ones we do. There’s no substitute for lost chances. Little can be done in retrospect. I shall try, and it looks like I’ll fail. One of the best things in my life, could, in 36 hours from now, be gone. Yet the chance to stop, or more accurately, continue things, is still going to be taken. Still worth taking. And I’m not sure I appreciate the full irony of that.

What I can appreciate is how this all sounds. All very ambiguous and overly philosophical. As I said, this is for me. An outlet. A medium in which to consider, reflect and remember my views. I don’t think this will make sense to most of you. But, if you’re genuinely interested, if any of you genuinely want to improve relationships you’re in.... take a chance. Set aside your thoughts, your beliefs, and take one small chance. Ideally, follow that by another. It gets easier, but begins with one small leap of faith. Say something you’ve been desperate to say, and don’t regret it. Why? Because otherwise you’ll never know. Regret hurts more than loss. It’s the power of the unknown.

I’ll sit here and say, despite knowing how cheap the word has become to some : I’m falling in love with Krystal Anne Evans. She basically knows it. And she doesn’t feel the same. I say basically, because if I actually said I loved her, right here, right now, it’d only make things worse. I’d stand and shout it, literally, at anyone who would listen, if I thought it would make a difference. But she knows. Deep down, she knows. She means so much, and realises so little. The problem, she thinks she realises more, is aware of something greater – a sense, and is unsure because of that. I’ve experienced moments, nights of something so close to absolute love. Unparalleled. Pure. And it’s great. But for every high, there’s an equal low.

And this is a low. 36 hours has just become something longer. A near eternity. She doesn’t feel ready to meet and work this out finally, and if I wasn’t so low already, I know it would hurt so much more. Not knowing is crushing. Being powerless, no control over anything, and as much as I trust her, and as much as I trust her judgement, she’s romantically naïve. Worse, I’m not even sure she knows it. I'm no better

Writing this is liberating. Knowing someone, somewhere may read this, and will understand. I can’t say this to anyone else. There’s a façade which must be kept at all times around others. It takes effort, but to some extent, we all do it.

As I say. If you’re genuinely concerned about how people regard you, make sure they regard you well. It’s simple. You say what you feel. You say what you know. If the other person is worth knowing, they’ll understand and they’ll accept you for yourself.

“Anybody can be anybody” - Luke Rhinehart

But although it’s harder to be yourself, the rewards are so much greater. So much more satisfying.

Try. Take a chance. See what happens.