Almost a New Year
I’ve been twiddling and widdling. I’m as tired of life as it is of me. Raining broken glass and everything doesn’t seem as important as it used to. It’s the holidays. I’ve seen family. I am detached.
They feel like they were once roots and due to being away for so long, it will never be the same. Or that’s my perception. I feel like I will not have that again until I have it on my own with a family I’ve created. I’m in no rush for the new family. They’re out their and from a current and future standpoint, I’m not quite sure where my wife is currently.
I’ll hold my own hand thanks.
And spending this extra time alone has been good. Not that I’ve spent much time with myself. I’m usually some where else. Like being on a date where you can never get their attention. So you wish you had brought a knife to the dinner table to cut your arm off for a little eye contact. Bleeding, really. And I’m not quite sure that I’m ready to get my attention that bad.
So I keep up my circles…like the curls on my head. Maybe they're dizzy.
The ceilings are so tall here that my feet are always cold without socks. Sounds like there are easy solutions, but there’s no easy solution. Never.
I’m repressed, not depressed.
Don’t ask because I really don’t feel like explaining.
I wonder what people look like naked. I wonder how people smell. I see people and I forget. . . So I go back again just to serve my memory well. I am a slave.
So I focus hot heat on other adventures. I’m swollen and worn like shoes. Ha. And maybe I’m stepped on from time to time.
I’ve been meaning to write more.
I’ve been meaning to do a lot more of a lot of things…
…including telling the truth.
They feel like they were once roots and due to being away for so long, it will never be the same. Or that’s my perception. I feel like I will not have that again until I have it on my own with a family I’ve created. I’m in no rush for the new family. They’re out their and from a current and future standpoint, I’m not quite sure where my wife is currently.
I’ll hold my own hand thanks.
And spending this extra time alone has been good. Not that I’ve spent much time with myself. I’m usually some where else. Like being on a date where you can never get their attention. So you wish you had brought a knife to the dinner table to cut your arm off for a little eye contact. Bleeding, really. And I’m not quite sure that I’m ready to get my attention that bad.
So I keep up my circles…like the curls on my head. Maybe they're dizzy.
The ceilings are so tall here that my feet are always cold without socks. Sounds like there are easy solutions, but there’s no easy solution. Never.
I’m repressed, not depressed.
Don’t ask because I really don’t feel like explaining.
I wonder what people look like naked. I wonder how people smell. I see people and I forget. . . So I go back again just to serve my memory well. I am a slave.
So I focus hot heat on other adventures. I’m swollen and worn like shoes. Ha. And maybe I’m stepped on from time to time.
I’ve been meaning to write more.
I’ve been meaning to do a lot more of a lot of things…
…including telling the truth.