What are you hiding? Eugene?

what is to be hidden is not yet clear, but something has to be.
something more than just friendship on friendship day between you and me. sneaking out in the rain wearing a parka, i wait for a nod from you. a nod enough to start my newly acquired KTM and start riding. while you drive toward me.
what i must hide is not clear, but something has to be.

the tobacconist, leaving at midnight, leaves me in more darkness than even a few seconds back. only the tall tree is darker than the night.
it houses the owls. the last few cellphones can be seen fireflying in the distance, walking away toward their respective homes. i call you up and you are driving. what is there to be hidden, you ask. it isn't clear, but something has to be.

am online now, waiting for footsteps in the corridor. hushed, with your pajamas brushing against the wooden floor. maybe you will open the door and answer me.
maybe you don't know the answer.

maybe i am rushing it. maybe imagining there is something while there is nothing. yet. nothing yet, maybe. am i killing the possibility of something? overreacting? trying to turn this into an inspiration? my muse?

will it help me write about mashi tomorrow? that's one blog post been waiting for long to happen. it is in the form of a draft. mashi. our mashi is probably not gonna live much longer. she is running around the house looking for her antidepressants like a maniac. i ignore her for now. she will be written about separately. she deserves a little more than some weird confusion in my mind. right now, it is this. do i find you beautiful? i can't tell, but definitely attractive. do i know you? definitely not. do i know myself? that's always had no for an answer. truman, right now, could say "and...in case i don't see you...good afternoon, good evening, and good night"... and walk out the door in the sky. i could not because i haven't reached that door.

how far is that door in the sky? who is on the other side?