September 22, Year of the Moon

I want the children to be smart. Let them be smart. Let them be of the forest and the sea and the mountains. Let them be moved by pianos and poetry. Let them know how to balance their cake and their body, on one aching toe. Let them speak the words that they mean. Let them be warriors.

The strangest thing has occurred. It seems a man I have never met, refused an offer I did not make, or not sincerely. And if I tried to explain it any further, I would be unsuccessful. Because failure does not scare me at the moment, I will make an attempt.

Often, Jackie finds herself bored, and invents games to pass the time. She makes a sport out of toying with the emotions of others. On many occasions, she has invitedĀ me to participate.

Though I would like to say that I have declined, based on moral objection, this is not the case. For many months now, I have feigned an affection for a man, I know through pictures alone. We communicate infrequently, but I always make sure to throw out an amorous word. Yesterday, I sent not just a word, but an entire letter. Not just any letter, but the one I had written for Matthew. He, Cody, thanked me. His exact words being, “I am very greateful for every word you said this morning.”

Misspelled, insincere gratitude!

Soon after, I swear I heard crickets chirping in Jerusalem. I heard a woman in France laugh at a bad joke. But from him, there was nothing. My counterfeit love was turned away. And just why does this injure me so?

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September 22, Year of the Moon

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