Interrupt in the short story for awhile. Here's a secret: I don't even know how it's going to end. One moment I'm posting a regular update..the next, I'm 3 paragraphs down into a story that somehow stole my mind, and my fingers. This story I'm writing..it somehow feels like it has a life of its own. Did I tell you I didn't want to write it in the first place? It's like it's been kept in my head for too long, and once it's gotten a whiff of what's outside, it wants more. I think I can also say I'm a little scared of it. Scared because I don't know where it's going, and also because I have no idea if I have any control over it.

Now I'm wondering what it is now. Is it a story in a blog? A blog that evolved into a story? Or am I a character in a story in someone else's blog? Sounds insane? Most probably cause certain days, I think I am slipping into madness. It's not easy being in a..in a..triangle of sorts. Yeah..a triangle. I'm pining for someone who in turn is hoping for someone else to make up his mind. Convoluted? I am definitely not surprised. How long can I last? How long can anyone last? I have absolutely no idea.

Ugh. I need some sleep. Tomorrow, folks. Maybe the story continues. Maybe the blog does. Maybe I do.

"The best intentions are fraught with disappointments."
"Emerson?"
"No. Grissom."
Gil Grissom (William Petersen), CSI to Sara Sidle