I believe that I am falling in love with a vast person. To do so is to take a deep breath at the edge of something heavy and specious. He is the sort of man who gives everything he can; he extends himself to the edge of his own borders, the way some people do not. Narcissists are locked in the center of their own increasingly small worlds; all Narcissus could see in the water was himself. I truly believe that I am falling in love with someone who sees and works to see beyond his own line of vision year after year, and is honest and forgiving about the times he fails, as we all fail.
Sigh. I can only imagine that the way I feel for Our Pal's Pal is how so many of my friends felt for me when I was 25 and devil-may-care, thinking it was somehow wicked adult to move into a barely-heated industrial loft in the middle of no-man's land by way of Hades and be, ya, know, all artistic and whatnot. What I got was bronchitis from the constant chill, no art made, as I could barely leave my futon, and mugged on my doorstep by seven young gents who made off with the seven dollars I had left in the world. Those who loved me begged and pleaded, so clearly envisioning the inevitable, yet I could not be dissuaded.
We can only hope that Miss F. emerges with her dignity and psyche intact. Eventually.
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