I’m sorry, Circa. It wasn’t you–it was me. You were so flexible, so easy-going, and I took advantage of that, didn’t I? Can we make it work, you and I? Can I repair the damage, that broken trust? There’s still so much to do. You’re so well organized, and I? well, I still need you.
It’s just that this other notebook, you see, I need it too. Such a slim volume, with its creamy sheets. It’ll be discreet, I promise.
No, it’ll never be as forgiving as you. How could it? It’s so linear. It shows me all my flaws, my missteps. But it can also remember the moments of brilliance.