i daydream sometimes, i take myself out of the picture. i am glad of some things. that is, i have had some experiences i am happy i have not missed. there are things so intricate, it would take pages to convey the smallest part, so i opt for concise generally, not to pander to the twitter length attention span, but in hope that someone, somewhere, may be able to extrapolate something of what it really is.
there's sometimes a buggy.
to explain would also cause it to lose something, some poetry, some weight. i have considered on lightness, and it has its attractions, and i suppose i could fly were i light enough, but it is not me, no matter how much i would wish it.
i take myself out. i make it a scene, and i zap myself out, and watch it continue without me. but i know it would not be clean, i know it would only be for me. i am trying to talk myself into detaching enough to do it lately.
there was an incident. it was ugly. i don't feel like telling it now, not in detail, but there were children in the park bullying a child. i flew into a rage and yelled and cursed at them. i was triggered. i am horrified at how little people seem to understand what such experiences can do to a person, they seem surprised to hear of the suicides resulting from such abuses, but they still don't seem to really understand. i was so angry and intent primarily on getting them away from the boy i didn't do anything for him, and someone had come and was taking care of him while i was still yelling at the other children. it doesn't make the lambs stop screaming. they scream constantly now.
i have dreams. but you cannot live on them. so what do you live on in the meantime?
