What warms the heart, I asked,
Is a mystery, he replied.
What chills the heart, I asked,
Is a riddle, he replied.
What solves these mysteries, I asked,
Is a clue, he replied.
What answers these riddles, I asked,
Is a secret, he replied.


The normal born, alien-like man would reply like that, wouldn't he? His own instinct is to leave a mystery, or a riddle, or a secret, or clue at the end of a sentence. In his mind, there is no right or wrong answer; it's just another story to be told when you are old, crippled, and drinking tea in fine china; the story of whether or not he chose to label a relationship… The story of whether or not he wanted it to last. Obviously, this certain man in this certain poem was confused himself, for none of us are perfect, and therefore not all of us will know the right or wrong answer.

As ladies, it is our job to fix these holes; to mend the brokenness, and to put back in order what once was alive. And you should know that the only reason for why I said "ladies," is simply because when a man shuts down- as a woman would do, as well- the other person must seal the holes, and mend the brokenness.

I have searched my entire life for the perfect happiness. I've looked through pages and pages of books and magazines. I've watched films and television shows over and over to see what went wrong; what destroyed the thing that mattered the most. Yet, every time, I find myself overcome with misfortune, and I come to realize that it is not the person that makes others happy that will make you happy. It's the person that fits you that will make you happy. As a teenager, I'd always foraged for the perfect friend; the one that would make everything seem "okay," and "enough." Yet time after time, I perceived a whole 'nother conclusion: that this was the perfect friend, but not the perfect friend for me.

And, so, in response to that, I have been drawn to a close that these people and memories and moments of happiness must be taken advantage of, and taken advantage of now.

That is all there is to say.