[yammer] I gouged out [yammer yammer yammer]

I gouged out an area for us to roam before I knew who you were and before I knew that you were a homebody.
I spent several moderately sized periods of time preparing the ground and thinking about what would be good or what would be appropriate for our means or for our needs. I thought about getting another job to pay for the trees or for plants and/or other landscaping.
I would have bought you a kitchen if I had known that you would want one. Or, perhaps, even a small animal of your choice that could conceivably have trouble using the restroom on its own and as a result would have to be handled with the utmost care and tenderness so as to avoid unsavory accidents or fussiness.
Although the distinct possibility exists that these efforts may not have been in vain, I tend sometimes (oftentimes) to think too much on these things. Especially given the wholly nonspecific nature of our eventual meeting our first sexual encounter or even the time we would eventually argue whole-heartedly and bitterly. “Listen to me yammer.” I would tearfully say perhaps, knowing the balance of my thoughts (oftentimes delicate and indistinct) and the realization that we both may perhaps feel that—followed nearly immediately by guilt and love. We would kiss one another’s faces in apology and because we would know, at that time, what it is like to sleep next to ourselves, to sleep by ourselves, and so we would kiss one another, I think.
But I digress:
I gouged this out now because I’m not sure what society’s dictates are on this matter (because our stars will probably cross in some misty future that we can’t possibly know—even though we do know secretly, completely that every other person we suck off or kiss is not… that.)
(And to think of the cups of coffee I’ve drank alone. They’re at least more than I could be able to count on two or three sets of hands and feet.)
People often give advice related to this matter, saying things about fish in the ocean or the insignificance/significance of individuals depending on the individual and how this individual is situated in space and time. However, some other advice that I tend to believe is applicable in this situation is something that I learned when I was a Boy Scout: When you are lost in the woods, it’s important to remember that if you are in the woods in Wisconsin, and you get ‘lost,’ you’re actually not lost because you know that you’re in Wisconsin. Also, if you are misdirected in your walking about, it’s a good idea to stay where you are. You are easier to find when you stay in one place, rather than moving all around.
That being said, I’ve got a serious case of wanderlust and these shoves have some history. Walking in the snow in Madrid. Walking in the snow up north. Down south in the dry or wet grass. To the east—

[and sometimes I am looking through a pane of ice and there is a blizzard on either side or falling leaves and a light yet steady rain I am not really sure about what these images indicate for me or what to think about their repetition and their various changeling forms prescribed depending on the mood one has and season though luckily enough for me some people look more handsome and more beautiful after coming in out of the bitter cold]
The moderate winter of illness is only part of the master narrative, though often one tends to lose sight of this in the face of minutiae, miniature celestial certainties, bodies, astrological meanderings of the future shadowing the things that we are now—or are in the somewhat future. And even though this may be the case, this is the now of camphor and melancholy.