between [Named] Street and [my Numbered] Street, and with my head in the pages of a book about a sham marriage (gay man married an emotionally unstable lady) titled [what stars do], a few things tried to sort themselves out in my head. And sort them out in the context of the book because Omitted purchased the book for me when our affections still [what stars do, past tense] brilliantly. Thought to be continued.

The interview went well! Something for the positive bin. I meet with someone else at the omitted and the person who I interviewed with comes up with a salary package this coming week. The latter she brought up leaving my current job and also told me I get paid like an intern. I don’t know what that all means, but I hope it means something good. Really, I’m just trying to beat the wage one of my part-time bosses pays me. I have never developed the ability to be (greedy?) when it comes to money. I guess it never came up. I called my father once the (2 hour) interview was over and spoke with him, my mother, the twin and the latter’s lover. The latter he spoke with me about negotiating whatever salary they offer. I was so droopy-eyed at the interview. After all this time, I barely know how to act excited about all the positive stuff in my life. All the shit re Omitted just swoops in like a thick fog dotted in hazards. Hazards that, once the fog lifts, tick on.

I want all those good moments with Omitted front and center for both of us. I want all the good of one of my favorite author’s Good Times to really win out. When I hear my imagination of Omitted’s voice hint I’ve omitted omitted you, what I want–

I want to pass out because I’m so tired from struggling to sleep under Delta’s blue lights and wake up in the city I quit to Omitted’s footsteps coming home from–

I want to support Omitted’s happiness but I need mine considered too. I don’t want to believe the twin when the twin tells me I’ve given Omitted too much credit.

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