And as I watch events unfold in front of my eyes like a string of silent clips, the whispered words of yes no maybe I think I love her but I don't and life would be less painful if it'd end, I take a step back as an observer and muse- no, I'm not an observer, I can't be neutral, I can't can't can't but there isn't anything I can do.

With the way things are playing out in the story of my life, I'd rather meet writer's block again, feel its pressure press against my lips to prevent the words from flowing. But is that all I can do? No, I can rewrite things; make it so that spangled banners of happiness dance from the walls, cheer and laughter ring through the alleyways of bliss and fear. 45, 45, 45;; perfection found within the realm of numbers, perfection so intangible that few can even vie to seek?