Evidence. I was always big on evidence. It's a need that's akin to nostalgia, but not really, because somehow the point was always to make sure I never had the chance to forget. I don't know why. I probably should figure it out - but I'll save it for another day.

I'm also big on second-guessing. And I call it rationalizing. It doesn't make any sense, and I know, but whenever things get nonsensical - scary, wrong, forbidden - I will be the first to pinpoint where exactly I must be reading into them. So they make sense again, and I feel comfortable.

Of course, hindsight gives an unfair advantage in any ulterior reconsideration of evidence. But this. This. Sure, inexperience and youth will take some of the blame - but god, the astonishing, untenable level of blatant denial. 

With the passing of time, I forgot the exact words and gestures and the weight of the subtext. I forgot the instinctive emotional reactions that were out of my grasp. I kept an absolute, theorized version of the story and accepted my confusion as one of the basic components of the backdrop.

I planted that telltale piece of evidence based on intuition alone - at least that part of my brain was still functional. It might have been the only one, because - whatever more did I need to let my guard down and acknowledge what was right under my naive nose? I wanted an unequivocal message, free from any pretense, and there it freaking was.

Ironically enough, I saved it so I could remember and then proceeded to setting it entirely aside while rationalizing it into an acceptable transaction.

Now the implications all jump at me and I can't believe they were foggy then. And that just reinforces that feeling that I've had for a while that I really need to start trusting my instincts.

After all, what was I really looking for?
And I wonder when will I learn?
Maybe my wish knew better than I did
And I wonder when will I learn?
When will I learn?
Guess I was in deeper than I thought I was