The story that began with a memory

Friday night turns out to be a lot calmer than I had worried it should be. My flatmate, sad sad story, got dumped by her friends so we're staying in, watching Almost Famous, drinking watered down drinks for our own amusement.
"Be bold and Great forces will come to your aid" - Goethe
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And tonight I, to my great relief, called up the Girl in Fashion and told her what's what. Once again, honesty seems to work. She understood. And gave me the best wishes. I've never "chosen" between girls before. That is to say, I've never had more than one girl interested in me at one time.
On the other hand, all this seems like a simile that rings badly even in my own ears. I havent chosen a person. I have put my emotional money on my favourite. That's it. I'm gonna give her all I've got, and hope that that's enough. Enough for what? For time to stand still. For the sun to explode and bring summer in a gush of molten lava.
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I see a brick wall coming. This is the bizzaro world. No paint this time, but I am hoping for that to be wrong. A paper divider, texture painted. When I see green fields now, I cringe, turn and walk a way. So here I am, running like a a madman. Toward a red brick wall.

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