Sitting here, relaxing, listening to Everything But the Girl's Walking Wounded, watching the sun and light change on the palo verde tree outside my windwow, I am struck by the fact that I have no one to sing love songs too. Not even bad love songs. Not even you done me wrong songs. No one that occupies my heart in that fashion. And I haven't for a long time. And I probably won't for forever.

It's lonely feeling. But it's okay. Somehow.

"I thought that I'd outgrow this kind of thing. Tell me, aren't we supposed to mature or something? I haven't found that yet, is this as grown up as we ever get? Maybe this is as good as it gets. Years may go by, but I think the heart remains a child. The mind may grow wise, but the heart just sulks and whines and remains a child."