I tend to blow things up. I’m indecisive. I overthink. Maybe because I dissect relationships for a living. I don’t know. But I also believe in magic. It’s a choice. A hard one. I haven’t always but I do now. And it can keep you alone for a very long time. Believing in something that many think is Santa Claus can turn the ocean into a wishing well, one hidden in an obscure village nowhere. But I’ve learned that logic will only carry you so far. It may build you a nice picket fence but it won’t give you blinders. It won’t allow you to reach the high notes. I miss the feeling of not wanting anything else. I’m tired of peeling an onion. I want the shit in a bottle, the unexplainable. The magic. The “I was standing. And you were there” kind of magic. What Olivia Newton John sings about. Some may think I’m crazy. But I’ve been married and in long term relationships for most of my life. And I’ve analyzed love from every angle. And I’m tired. I’ve come full circle. I’m sixteen again. I don’t care what’s on paper. I want to fall. Backwards. Magic. My new non-negotiable.