Tell me one more time and I might believe it. I might, maybe, perhaps, except that I already know it's a lie. I've always known it was a lie, and until recently, I didn't care. Some part of me hoped that you'd stretch the truth so far, the truth itself would snap out of it. Belief is a powerful emotion weakened only by the proof of absence. Only the foolhardy accept the absence of proof and call it Faith. Logical thought is left behind as you try to outrun your own emotion, telling yourself that keeping your body moving will somehow keep your mind still, failing to realize that thought requires neither legs nor placidity. The world is moving faster than you ever will, and will move longer than you can possibly be remembered.
Tell me one more time and I will believe it. Not because I think it to be true, but because I simply want to believe it. The sky is green, the Earth is the center of the universe, and taxes can be avoided. We think, therefore we are is a load of shit. How can thought predict itself? It can't. If it could, we would walk in circles forever, chasing tails that were shed long before we could formulate an opinion in our heads. Then again, you like to run in circles, so maybe the joke's on me. If finishing where you began is really what you want to do, then by all means, get back in your car and drive home. Something tells me that yielding the right of way isn't in your nature; you'd rather force a collision.
Tell me another fairy tale so I can sleep better tonight. Tell me you miss me.