Sneaking

So I didn't get around to describing the scope of the blog. This blog is what I'm going to write in, every time I start missing the man or thinking of him too much. I need an outlet. I don't think that expressing emotions is necessarily good; "venting" may do more harm than good. This is my heart, not a boil that needs to be lanced.



Let me call Love #1, my past and current partner, my Partner. Love #2, the one I never talked to, is the Magician. The character referred to in Reading Lolita in Teheran as "my magician," is so similar to this man that I could have sworn they were the same person. But one is Iranian, and one is European, so that can't be the case. I never finished the book, because reading about Nafisi's magician was so intimate and painful.



My Partner and I were both classmates in the Magician's class. They didn't seem to like each other much.