I misunderstand you as you misunderstand me I don't take the time and the trouble to walk out of myself, to walk into you, and neither do you, relationship is imperfect, and sometimes it is seriously so, and we are apart although we may seek togetherness, but it can only be very temporary, and we may try to compensate for it with empathy, but this again lacks reality and true conviction, love tries to help, but even love, doesn't always linger, only it lingers for it to make you wish for it to happen again, and there are different types and different understandings, disunity persists, there is at best duality, and we don't take the time to understand our differences and then we fight, and then we war and then we kill in the name of difference, and misunderstanding.

Patronising plaudits, and then she turns from me, to her reality, expecting me to consume them, be influenced by her throwaway ideas, devoid of truth, and I turn from her to a place of reality, in a moment of so long ago. Hurt remembers, and it wishes not for the accompaniment of anger, and I have heard the words of bitterness, and I have seen the words that I have written, and in the sobriety of my changing mind, they are distant from me. And then I wish to apologise for my being a misrepresentation of myself, and then within this, I seek personal change, that will align itself to my reason, to the truth of myself, or what I see, to be the truth of myself, and then I ask myself; 'who exactly am I?' And who exactly, do I want to chose to be? And why do I betray myself with giving illusions to the world? So then I have become as patronising to myself as those patronising plaudits have been, and perhaps, in retrospect, she showed me something that I was loath to see.