My house smells like the salmon I cooked last night. Windows open, beautiful day.
Remember I had chopped my hair into an accidental John Wick? It's long enough to hold a French braid now, thank goodness. I'm just not cute with jaw length hair.
Dang it, accidentally pre-published. Oh, well. Gonna keep going.
Went completely off track at the psychologist. I really need to get back to listing topics of things I want to work on. It occurred to me driving away that 13 years ago my original intent was to be able to talk to people better, and that the last time we met I announced I don't want to talk to anyone any more at all. And he's the only person I talk to about stuff that really concerns me.
I have a family. I do have a few friends on this earth. I still feel empty inside. And I'm not sure I care that much any more about that.
If this is all in my head, if my life really is made for lurker games and shadows behind the scenes, if there really are strangers that reach out and check on me when people I love walk on by, then maybe, just maybe, this whole covert war thing validates the dream I had as a very young child (possibly 3 or 4) that I was a man with an important secret job and I was killed by an explosion, and I came back to finish what I was doing then.
I've joked around about people nearly and sometimes actually dying around me any time I really do get to work, and the first thing I thought per that pinky blog post I made today was possibly I got nudged about a threat to the ONE person I really talk to. If that's the case, do I withdraw, like I did from everyone else? Or do I weigh the current situation and continue?
I will never really have what I want in this life. I've accepted that. Friends came and went. Loved ones are far away or on very different mind planets. Sometimes I want to dwell. Sometimes I can't feel anything else. So I live in my head.
Aspienado is rattling the bars.
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