sometimes, where love goes, you can't follow.

and that happened to me quite recently. while cruising the metropolitan streets of salt lake city, i glanced to my right and saw a car that seemed distantly familiar.  and it hit me.  it was the car of my one-true-high-school-love.  there he was, in all of his glory.  he'd aged well.  so, naturally, what i wanted and needed to do was car-chase him until he arrived at wherever he was heading (hopefully a store and not a house), stalk him inside, and pretend like we'd just happened to run into each other.  this was the obvious and only course to take.  so, i began doing precisely that.  he pulled into a parking lot after only two blocks...the parking lot of a store...the state liquor store...

it was no real surprise to me.  he'd never been a member and had started partying pretty hard core junior year, so the tragedy of the moment wasn't over his mortal soul.  it was because he'd pulled into the one place where i couldn't follow him.  what business could i possibly have in a store dedicated to the sale of alcohol?  none business.  and he, of all people, would know that.  the deep, deep injustice of it all has haunted me ever since.  i hated not being able to follow love.

this isn't a serious experience of my life. more like humorously ironic.  but there is a deeper correlation that doesn't need to be delved for: sometimes opportunities have expiration dates.  sometimes things really do come to an end and the can't be recreated or brought about again.  nowhere is this more hurtful than in love.  it sucks when the love timer sounds and ends.

also, i'm obsessed with this song: