IT'S LIKE I'M LIVING SOMEONE ELSE'S LIFE FOR A CHANGE AND I DON'T SEEM TO MIND IT AT ALL

I really don't know what to make of my life as of late. It's as if I switched bodies with someone else.

In fact, I feel like I switched places with The Man Who Took My Place aka Dick, Eve's recent ex.

I am now The Man Who Took His Place.

Weird.

I mean, that's the strangest thing about it all. Only about four or five months ago I was out of her life completely. I know, I know, I keep on going over this, like I expect to find some clue at the crime scene, but really-- this is the most perplexing puzzle I've ever had to figure out.

I'm not sure if I want to figure this one out. I'm afraid I'll be disappointed if I do.

All I know is, I was once on the outside, looking in. I used to see him with her, walking hand in hand, arms around each other, smiling and bouncing. Now, he is the one looking in, but he is doing more than just watching from afar-- he's trailing her, and that means he's trailing me also.

I watch my back when I'm out on the streets.

I'm not afraid, but I am fascinated. I mean, I was there, in the same shoes. Does he realize that at all? No, I don't think so. I don't think a person as self-centered as he is would ever think about what I went through for a second. He never once thought about me except to disparage me, to fear me, to ban Eve from even thinking about me.

A lot of good that did, eh?

I guess the moral of this story-that-isn't-quite-over-yet is: Men, don't keep your women on a short leash, even if they don't mind it-- one day, you will lose your grip, and they will be gone, and they might not want to look back...

I don't fear that she will one day go to him. I can see that happening. You don't spend nine years with someone without some type of attachment. I think one day she will try to make me upset by going to him for something. I will, of course, be cool about it, and it will drive her nuts.

Wait-- I'm overthinking it. I'm imagining shit.

I don't want to jinx it.

It's been going great, people. She and I are very happy with our lives.

There, that's better.

I have this theory about writing: if you write about something long enough, after a while it starts to happen in real life.

That's the only way I can think to explain what is happening with Eve and I.

Maybe I should start writing about getting rich.

Maybe things kicked in when I deleted my Archives. Maybe there was some magick in that debacle. Maybe, like the days of old when I would sacrifice my poems to the fire gods, there was some alchemy going on, some form of transmutation, an incantation or a spell that rendered the unreal all too real.

I shake my head at it, but I also reap the benefits. I don't mean to brag, believe me-- I just can't quite comprehend fully how much passion we share when we're alone. I'm losing weight like a motherfucker, from eating right and getting the proper "exercise"...

Irony? Or poetic justice?

So far, the new year has been happy. Now, how do I keep it that way?

That's the real puzzle.