March 10^th

            Marianne prepared a surprise picnic this evening in the atelier.   She is trying to recoup our romance.   I am so distracted by my unhappiness that I could not respond.   I feel terrible.   I push a wonderful woman, such as Marianne, away from myself; Yet I punish myself for the act or non-act.   Portions of my heart (and, here, I begin to see the emergence of the idea that we, our ‘Selves’, are actually composed of several beings or ‘Selves’ sharing the space and rooms of the brain.) want very much to draw Marianne back to me.  She, too, in part wants this.   Other portions of my heart are so injured that I only consider running away as a viable option.

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