At the End of Us

So for a while now, probably about four - five months, I've been planning this long, detailed, angst-ridden post about Lilie, detailing the highs and lows of our relationship, how it came to its (then) current state, and my thoughts on the matter.

I'm still going to do a little of it, but I'm going to replace the vast majority of it with a picture of a duck:



Isn't it cute? I love ducks. 'Duck' was even my first word. I tried searching on google for a better cute picture, to no avail. I tried 'cute', then 'random', then 'random cute'. So I ended up going with the picture of the duck. It's a good picture. I like it, and I'm happy with the decision.

That last paragraph was nothing more than repetitive stream-of-consciousness rambling, and it's what I was planning on doing. While that does have its beneficial aspects, there wouldn't have been any of those present in my intended post.

So instead, I'm going to do a short version. We had a good time. There were a lot of memories created, ones that I hope I'll treasure forever. I thouroughly enjoyed the time we spent together, and I'm fairly confident she did too.

But there were things that I ignored that I shouldn't have, occurences that became patterns. I'll probably always be in love with her, but I don't love her anymore.

And, to finish things off:

The UK's smallest carnivore, the weasel is nevertheless a fearsome predator, and its small size enables it to follow small rodents (its favourite food source) deep into their holes and tunnels - once the chase is on there is little chance of escape for the prey. Looking very similar to its close relative the stoat, smaller size and lack of black on the tip of the tail are the main distinguishing features. In summer what appear to be 'gangs' of weasels may be encountered, these tend not to be gangs as such, but are usually a mother with a litter of young. After a few weeks though these parties will break up as the young move off to establish their own territories.

I like weasels. When I play a wizard or sorceror in D&D, my familiar is always a butterfly or a weasel.

Groove Coverage -- The End