I logged on the next morning more out of curiosity that anything else—trying my best to tell myself that I didn't care if there weren't any messages. But the truth was I did care—the truth was I had found myself connecting with the guy almost on a spiritual level—that plane of truth where anything seems to go. It was the first time that it seemed anyone had let me that close to their emotions. My computer lit up and the gallant sound of 'you've got mail' filled the air, and I found myself practically beaming into outer space as I opened it. The message almost had me blushing at its frankness—at the raw sensuality that I could tell the man harbored just through his words, but it also held a key of sadness and regret as if he had made decisions in his life that had destroyed him to make. God, why did he seem so familiar to me? I sat down and typed.
Your woman sounds almost too good to be true. An icon? That's an awful big role to fill. I'm the opposite of an icon—abrupt and always getting myself into trouble (laugh). I have this boss who spends most of his time telling me I'm not good enough or that I should have done this differently. After a while it starts to make you wonder—to second guess yourself and you can't afford that sort of indecision in my business—in music. Or maybe it's the world of music that feeds the need to hide from emotion too because you can blame the press for anything—using them as an excuse for not doing something you know is worth the risk. I guess if we're going to be so frank with one another, I'd tell you that the man I loved—well…my heart was blinded by him. I feel like I disappointed him somehow, and that can't be true. But that's just the way he left it, and I won't let myself feel that way. He changed my life and all of my goals when we met the first time because after that it became about pleasing him. Maybe him leaving made me realize that sometimes it's about pleasing myself. I'm a dreamer—always have been. You can't break the spirit of a dreamer. Music was here before him. It'll be here after him, but it becomes sadder somehow—you relate more to anger and grief. I guess that's what a broken heart feels like. Wow, I think that's the first time I ever admitted I cared enough for him to let him break my heart. Strange how we weren't even together either. I should go now. I feel like I need to end this on a lighter note or something and say I have a fascination with double cheeseburgers and old eighties movies (laugh). Nothing more philosophical than a movie like sixteen candles or St. Elmo's Fire right? Good day to you, master. From the puppet.
--puppetonastring
Logging off, I leaned back in the computer chair letting the emotions that I felt now roll off of me like an avalanche. Being brutally honest had lightened me somehow—made me feel like taking the world by the horns and riding it like a bull for much longer than the designated eight seconds. Yeah, it made me fuller. Standing up, I grabbed my keys and kicked Mason to wake him up before rushing out the door. Darius was going to kill me. I was late.