At what point does a mere longing become an obsession? Is it when the ego is hurt? And how deep must it hurt to go beyond the realm where you artificially sour the grapes to the realm where you long for them being sour? Every single morning I see it on my way. The moment I catch a glimpse of it, a saddening feel overcomes breaking through the music blaring in my ears. It lingers on. Memories from the not so distant past fill my head and hold a mirror to how miserable failure is. Never have I waited for the summer so much, never so much for the snow to melt.
My dearest Longs Peak, this summer, I will, I will, I surely will ....
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