Mrs. Anerton

read "The Muse's Tragedy" this morning.

intellectual comrade? a new concept yet so familiar. why am i playing all the roles of wharton's women?

i pride myself that he involves me in all his important decisions, out of habit and because we suit each other - not because he loves me. i hope i don't end up like Mrs. Anerton, who at middle-age realized everything she missed in her youth. It is because he didn't love me, it is because I never got what I wanted, that I wasn't able to move on.

--
I always felt with pride that the other girl passed on to you (as well as her previous one) after I was done with each of you. But I was the coward, wasn't I? She tried, she loved and received something in return. I, on the other hand, lived on illusions, on what-ifs, on vagueness. There
wasn't a start nor an end, sort of like a fleeting moment which you only depend on fate whether to move you forward or not. It's like a period of "let's see where it goes" and if nothing happens, then one can easily exit without any reproach from the other person; no guilt - you didn't promise anything.

Yes please, I'll give it a try with everything attached to it - the time, the attention and the commitment. I will not settle again for a fleeting moment, i'm willing to risk friendship. I will be brave enough to swim through deeper waters. I will emerge victorious or I will drown; either way I moved. I will no longer be playing in the shallow waters darling. An ultimatum (how many times have I said this before?) has to work for me; it must.