Stranger In Shadow There is no great story behind how we met, even if I could remember it, so it should be enough to say that we met and that it wasn't in person.

I was going through a bohemian phase then; pretentiously artistic with self-delusions of grandeur. I tried to surround myself with people of similar delusion so that I could hide in their shadow. Something happened then that I won't get into now, and suddenly my ego was overinflated and invincible. I felt that every woman in the world desired me and it was expected that I indulge them. So I did. I flirted with her. I made her dream.

Then I made mistakes. Many. And I repeated them; not once, but some several times over. Suddenly I was once again human and able to feel emotion. Suddenly I realized that actions have consequences that resonate through other lives as well. I told her, I think, that I was not the person I claimed to be. Not in a sense of identity, but in a sense of purpose. She must have already known this, because she told me she wanted nothing to do with me.

Years later we met again, and still there is no great story to it, except to say that I fell into that old strange self. Once again I felt invincible, that I was desired and expected to indulge the world. That my actions would have no effect on anyone else. I thought that this time I could control it, but in the end, as in every end, I'm fallible and dissolute.

Looking into her eyes reminds me of this. That I'm an imposter.  ¶ 8:11 AM