it's all a dream that will pass.

Ralph Lauren boy strikes again, to upset my inner equilibrium, bringing with him a sense of anticipation that infects the butterflies in my stomach. it didn't help that the freezing cold room kept me shivering; the titillation that was in my heart manifested in my physical shivering by the end of the second hour. he was beside me and leaned forward in an almost conspiratorial way, explaining to me under his breathe, that he had found a common humanism in Weber and Schmitt. I nodded and listened, as i willed myself to be strong. He was in many ways the epitome of an ideal, and i told myself, no, i would not be taken in. Mirages tend to have the bad habit of being existential, their beauty leaving an aftertaste that reminds you, "Never Again, Will I Be Taken In." I struggle against those mirages, as long as i can, but they often illicit in me a sense of discomforting dissatisfaction with the status quo, those thoughts that taunt me that i could have it much better.