That I will draw every last ounce of emotion out an experience to write about it. I’m not above digging back decades to someone from days long past, and scraping rock bottom for some content. I feel everything so honestly and openly, but when it becomes words on paper, I exaggerate and add in details of my own making. It makes me seem crazy to anyone who thinks they see their own shadows in what I say. They call me a liar, say I create love in places there wasn’t any. And that’s fine. They can say that, but I won’t bat an eye.
Because if you’re here reading, you care. You remember. You are still affected by what I have to say about a fling that is long since done. And that, my friend, tells me all I need to know.