I was thinking about writing. Something I used to do a long time ago. Well, actually I still do but now it isn't the same. It's non-fiction now before was just prose or poetry. A long time gone.
I've lost the edge that I had then...I'm not sure why that happened. I've really fought the cookie cutter life that many of my friends and acquaintances have surrendered to.
Honestly though I think I've tried to have it both ways. Live on both sides of the fence. And the side I like has almost become a secret life, hidden from my established friends.
It happens I guess but I'm kind of tired of it. Very weary indeed.
I've lost the edge that I had then...I'm not sure why that happened. I've really fought the cookie cutter life that many of my friends and acquaintances have surrendered to.
Honestly though I think I've tried to have it both ways. Live on both sides of the fence. And the side I like has almost become a secret life, hidden from my established friends.
It happens I guess but I'm kind of tired of it. Very weary indeed.
I have always wanted the middle. I have always said that all I've ever wanted is to be okay. It's still sort of true, but I've also always projected "okay" really well, and I'm getting very sick of that. I think for me to find the middle, I need to explore the other extreme for a while.
Any time I hear someone speaking anything but English, my mind jumps immediately into French, even if I know a little bit of something else, it just turns on French mode, and that's all I can think of. I don't even know enough French anymore to have a conversation.
I don't worry about him in terms of me, and what I've done, or how I could help. I just worry about him, as him, wonder how he is managing to get by, wondering if he is okay, or if he will be. I guess it's more wondering than worrying, really.