Taking hints...

One would think that superior intellectual beings would be able to take a good hint when drop-kicked in their direction.

Not so.

Some of us are just too damn trusting in the goodness of others, and too damn believing in the power of love to take a hint until it is too late. (refer back to my point that we give the benefit of the doubt to people we love for far longer than behooves us)

Oh well.

At least, amor mío, we can console ourselves with sashimi, eggnog and cajun-spice salmon.

Tomorrow looks brighter.

It does.

I promise that when the breaking apart is over there will be a satisfactory nut, almost whole, on which to gnaw, if only half-heartedly.

See.

Couldn't stop myself from writing even though my heart is exploding.

This is definitely a good sign.

And... you are truly wonderful, so much so that I don't deserve the love that you offer me. Because I am decidedly _not_ wonderful...

Now back to End Note for the *last* time this quarter. I hope...