The other day I noticed it, the fact that you need not ask what I was thinking, but if I think at all. I am not decisive, but I do make snap judgements.
The book I was reading the other day, Love Walked In, the character in it that I loved, Cornelia, also makes snap judgements. When deciding what to do with the daughter of her dead boyfriend whose mother is missing, she decides instantly that the best thing is to keep the girl with her. I am like this, too.
An old lover recently commented that love and I are like oil and vinegar, we go together really well but rarely mix. We always seperate in the end. I am reluctant to love. Suprisingly reluctant. They talk me into it, these men and women. Then I do, and then it falls apart, it seperates, and the love floats to the surface of me. When it comes to this, I think a lot.