No. No... that would be far too healthy.


Instead, in my tower with the little things that flitter about the feet mocking their own chicaneries.  Buried with my own petard.  Still though, it's something.  Sometimes, if it's late enough and sleep decides that tonight is going to be the night when it decides to be a vindictive little bitch, I will lie motionless and wait for the sounds to come.  That morning that signals the fluttery visits of morn.  And I wonder that if they were capable they wouldn't much care.  And I wonder why I wonder.  And I wonder.

And.

For everything I say, there's four things I'm not saying, but maybe most people are that way.  I think, perhaps, if I were to wish for one thing, it would be to peer inside your heads.  To know what such a world is... and not just for selfish reasons of comparison but also for altruistic ones.  Most of my time is spent just wanting to understand.  In fact, one might say that is my most driving force and my greatest weakness.

Well okay, my greatest weakness is homemade honey wheat bread, but after that....

I'm dancing around a lot aren't I?   I spend a lot of time just justifying, or reanalyzing... too much time in the head.. too little time not out of it...

but often, I can't take too much outside of it.  Everything gets replayed, and if it hurts then it hurts double, and if it's great then it's too great and how long can we sustain this greatness?

How long can we sustain this greatness?

When I was a younger man, and started blathering in entries online, I was reaching out I suppose.  It was reactionary to things that were going on at the time, and maybe that's why I don't do it as much.  I do it elsewhere, sort of... but it's much shorter... and much more coy.   Maybe I am just better at hiding it as I get older, or maybe I like that arm's length.

Maybe I am just a user.  I certainly take more than I give.. that much is true.

Still though, I'm glad to have this option.  This place feels... safe.. like home at times... and if nothing else.. oh the times we've had.  Oh the times we had.

Nostalgia's a hell of a drug.

But back to the current time line.  

What sort of night is it when a comedy song can make you melancholy?  How ridiculous is THAT?!  I wonder when one stops feeling like a broody teenager at times.  Does that stick with?  I think I need to visit a community of older people just to find out if it's how it is or if it's my narcissism only.

This thing is all over the place.  I should never write when this sleep deprived.

I guess what I'm saying is that there are certain things I miss about the past, and though I know those things are gone forever, it's sometimes still nice to think on them.

I hope you all are well, while you still are... and that you stay that way as much as possible, until you are not...

Love,
-Q