A Lot, A Lot

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A lot, a lot. I've been think that a lot lately. It's a shade different, subtle to most, but clearly evident to me. A lot, a lot beats a lot. And really it's not like I use a lot all that often either. I'm usually much less effusive and seldom this forthcoming. More often than not, I live within a murky, gray area that leaves most things largely inconsequential. I'm non-committal and frustratingly illusive when it comes to such matters. I refuse to be pinned down and vociferously choose to retain a truckload of deniability.

Hmm... Seriously? I mean because it sure seems like I tell a lot, a lot about myself, doesn't it? Yeah, about that. It's not really the case. At least not in this instance it's not going to be. Right now a lot, a lot is mine and mine alone. I'm not willing to share. Sharing might bastardize it or give it wings or make it run and I can't chance it. Not now, not yet. Because a lot, a a lot is different, special, and potentially everything. Well, not 'everything', but a lot. Suffice it to say that a lot, a lot could end up being a lot.

To me. In the end. Or the long run. Or eventually. Yes, 'eventually' works. It's resoundingly positive, like it's a given that just hasn't happened yet. I like that.

For now, though, trust that I'm oddly pondering a lot, a lot, even if I seem painfully secretive about it. A lot, a lot is the point. Nothing more, nothing less. That it even exists is a miracle. Please don't make me explain it.

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