I am a masochist.
I will regret today’s decisions tomorrow.
Yesterday’s choices still sit heavily.
Sometimes tearing something apart is the only way to clean it up.
My office looks like someone tossed it for some secret object.
Maybe it was?
Was I looking for something in the mess of it?
Something, someone.
The clouds are gray and crying.
Weepy.
The Universe is so vast, where do I fit?
Why do I fit?
There’s a thread missing.
Feels weird.
I hope you are doing okay.
Ooh, hope, it’s still there.
Of course it is silly.
Focus…..
No.
This is a glimpse into how my mind processes. The thoughts are rapid fire, and not always related to each other or even what I am trying to express. Riddles and cryptic fragments that I have to translate, give relevance and meaning to. Writing is usually easier, but sometimes I so very much need to have my voice and body language do the expression for me.