what do you choose? do you choose me? “of course i choose you!” I was getting a little annoyed. For someone with so much confidence and so many people behind her, Ursula was actually a little insecure. She keeps so busy she doesn’t have time to feel all the motions that she has—that want to pass through so that she can move forward. the only way that she wasn’t going to be insecure—and capable of capturing the imaginations of a majority of the American people, was if her rise to power felt real, and she was becoming the president. That is because she was meant to be president. She knows it, so, all this time that she is not the president she is insecure about it. You can’t always coordinate the person that you’re meant to be with the person that you are at some uncertain moment in time. I wanted her to hurry up and be president so that she’d stop asking me if I loved her, especially since—but, now i won’t speak in her voice so that she can’t hear this: a part of me was in love with Scandinavian people; but that didn’t have anything to do with Ursula unless i found someone specific that treated me as well as Ursula treated me. And, since Ursula can understand me, and she treats me with respect—but let’s cut to the chase; i have a weakness for white-skinned (not overly tanned) blonds—just like I imagine a Swedish woman to be. But I wasn’t going to find someone like that—someone that was both right where she was supposed to be and still knew where she came from.
Now—the trick is this: Ursula thinks I’m handsome, and she would think I’m handsome even if she knew I lived with my parents; Ursula has telepathic abilities; she sees the real me—this indefinite outline of someone that might be remembered and someone that wasn’t going to allow for the other possibility—anonymity in this life—to get them down. Finally, she can understand me. Furthermore she’s thin and womanly, and, if she had a baby, she could probably lose the weight. How was anybody going to compete with that? Once you knew someone’s story, the way they looked became the way you integrated them into that story, and it’s the whole story, ultimately, that you fall in love with. Once the love is there, and you love someone’s story, you’re not only not looking for someone else, such as a Scandinavian—you become, in fact, addicted to this person—and you become addicted to the person that you are when you are with them—and nobody can overcome addiction unless the addiction is hurting them and they’re forced to stop.
But if I talked about it—I think Ursula might think: “well, you need to talk about it, so something isn’t working right.” Anyhow, i’m switching back to her voice. She won’t know anything about what I just said for as long as I deem it best to keep this from her—since no amount of convincing could help someone that was insecure, and couldn’t be convinced. hi now – where’d you go? “Can I just say that I’m so glad you speak English—I don’t know if I can make sense of another language unless I’m immersed, and I don’t want to leave my family, so I don’t really see myself living somewhere else.” Do you have the passion? Do you feel the passion? “I’m passionate about my work—but I usually don’t express that publicly because nobody can really understand me when I do—it’s like we’re on different wavelengths, and, for them, it’s enough to categorize me as a real talent and say, “we don’t need to know anything beyond that—we couldn’t possibly love you anymore than we already do.”
And that’s the point i want to make: “I can’t love anybody more than I love you because i’m addicted to you—it’s not so much that I’ve built my life around you, although I kind of have, as it is that you have the energy I need to be the person that is walking along this path—toward this event, and then the next one, and so on, until we die or we don’t love each other anymore. The possibility that we won’t love each other anymore, at some point, is real—this is real life; but that won’t happen unless we take different paths, and if we take different paths, we’ll figure that out and adapt accordingly—who knows? You might find that you can have any man on earth—especially if you become the president; you might find someone that worships you even more than me—or, on the other hand, someone that wants you to be the center of the life you will lead—whereas, if you’re with me, you will always be on equal footing with my work, such that, well, you can never be sure if I’ll choose to spend this or that day doing something that means nothing to me—even if you would be my constant companion.