Well, I hope were not too messianic, or a trifle too satanic // We love to play the blues

Why did I come back?

I always thought leaving was a bold, brave swing at living to the fullest; clinging to that excuse that to chronicle life was akin to spending time trying to discover 'just the right word' to document a moment rather than simply sewing it into the soul in a pure view.

Yet here I am, the picture 2 full years wider. So many questions answered and still so many others proposed.

Am I afraid I've lost tune with my pen, with my soul?
Can't I just accept, forgive and forget?
Is there any pathway that will lead me though my self-destructive streak?

Waiting so long for one that I could love forever...has the problem always been that I cannot let myself be loved in return?

I never did answer that first question really...