formless again
Spending time at home with my parents completely saps my will to live. Having grown up both a momma's boy and a daddy's girl, it doesn't take long before my radar gets jammed, and I succumb to the interference which is always so much stronger than my own weak signal. Being with my father makes me feel like a useless ornament, some kind of expensive and harmless pet (what he would call an "investment.") Being with my mother makes me feel like a phantom limb, an ectoplasmic sponge for her many aches. Anything solid in me inevitably dissolves; now I find myself back at the beginning, without any substance or shape.