I know that I've written much, much too little in the way of journal entries. And I can't pretend that this is going to explain why that has been so. But... I was putting in a couple book reviews today, and reading a couple old journal entries. I was impressed by them, and also disturbed. Because at that time, I was passionately... enamoured. Infatuated would be a better word. And the point is, it was with someone other than Pamela.

I can no longer imagine myself that way any more. (I mean, being passionate about anyone other than Pamela.) But the entries sound... Just Like ME!!! And I'm astonished, and... I don't know what all. I was blind with my infatuation. But there's no denying that it Was me. (And there were a couple of lines, which I enjoyed reading, where I said that I waited, still, for the RIGHT time, when I would have Love, and not only passion which led no where.) So, I had this feeling, that I wanted to clear up my heart, and history of seeking love, and what Pamela is to me. (Though I don't know if I can tell everything about that little aspect. It's a touch personal.)

First thing to say, is that... what I have with Pamela is the most important, the most real, the most involving relationship I've ever known. This may sound like an extreme statement, but then it's an extreme... situation that my feelings are in. And it doesn't really have that much competition; what I mean, is there haven't been too many relationships which I can compare it to. Not fairly. I don't know if I've said this many times before, or never before, but besides Pamela, there has only been one relationship before in my life. One with Love, on both sides, I mean. Love recognised, embraced, enjoyed, reciprocated, refracted, magnified, proliferated, and so on and on and on.

There have been a fair number of other ... relationships, (if that's the right word,) but to varying degrees of mutual understanding, and varying degrees of commitment, and there was never the feeling of it being something...
I don't believe there was ever the feeling, on both sides, that it was Love. (With the capitol letter.)

And then, there were the scores, and countless women I longed for, wrote poetry for, yearned after, and was devoted to... who never wanted anything to do with me at all. (That's too harsh on them; They just were not interested in more that acquaintanceship.)

And Pamela is... So wonderful. (And I've lost my train of though, because we just had our 45 minute daily phonecall. Sometimes it's longer. Sometimes it's shorter. But it's very rarely under a half hour.) All that I can think of to say, is that after a year, (and we've been together for about a year,) we are still very happy with each other. I have no other experience to compare this year to, and can't remember how long other couples I've known were together. So I can not say that "we've past the year point, so our relationship is proven to be so-and-so serious." All I know, is that it's a continual joy to think of her, and to feel my love reciprocated. And our time together... orients me. It feels like it gives my life direction, and meaning. It makes my life Real. (And we both feel the pitty that we're only together on the weekends, because she's working in Köln, and I'm in Lüneburg, which are five hours separate from each other, even without bad traffic, (or delayed trains, on the rare occasions when I go to her. But, as I must work for some time on most Saturdays...)

What else is there to say? A detailed look into my heart would likely reveal chaos, because Love defies Logic. We are happy. We enjoy... our... relationship. And Unless I'm going to call her again, and talk for another half hour, I'm going to have to stop writing now, or else I'll just be too full of compassion, and love, and warm feelings, and adoration Not to call her.

We are happy.