Fluffy before


"I don't know. I've been calling everything gay nowadays. But yay for your fluffy crush!"

"That was the past, Icka. She's a different case, as you said."

"Maybe what you feel towards her is much more serious than that."

"I dunno. Why else would I consider courting her? Despite me saying I won't do it to anybody?"

"Could this be looooove?"

"What if it was?"

"Then what are you going to do about it?"

"The thing that I do best."


"Aside from that..."

"Please don't run away and hide."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"What if you regret it?"

"What's there for me to regret? I choose silence rather than being shunned."

This was a conversation I had with Icka exactly three years ago today. I remember this because I blogged the whole thing, unedited, elsewhere, and I blogged the first part here, as I said, three years ago. That means the person I'm referring to isn't named here, but is named in the original version. That, or you already know what I'm talking about.

I mention this conversation because, in a fit of what-happened-in-previous-Novembers syndrome, I chanced upon this entry and realized that most of the things I do have a three-year shelf life. Crushes linger for three years. Friendships stay strong for three years. Interests stick for three years. And then, somewhere near the end, it just fades away, and gets replaced by other things.

And no, there are no feelings anymore. Actually, I don't think I should be looking back at this with rose-tinted glasses. That whole thing was bullshit. There are other, better things worth remembering. But yes, three years.

And your responses...

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