Day whatever the fuck it is
I've lost count and it contains less care in the world. I think last night there was a moment shared in a wake of weakness. Things were said, how it was said mattered than the what. I was honest, it felt honest to say. vulnerability and I have a toxic relationship and is half exposed when involved with another party. something about spending time away from constructive scheduling for a fucking vacation, mind you, that really enhances the time spent.
She knows her place with me, what I've done since the beginning of this situation to try and make it worth both our time and energy. to be fully in without holding myself back. the good the bad and the crazy. changing because I have to isn't expected of me but Chang for some better without losing any part of myself is supported but that always relies on the day of the week or how I'm feeling.
I'm not ready to go home or want to but when the time comes for it, there's new moves to make with the same old same old to keep up with.
Writing isn't an outlet for me. Never had been when discovering crazy scratches in that dead bolted room. Now, since that promise was made, I suppose it would be beneficial to document my thoughts, where my head is constantly going, and how the now, where changes are now commonplace, builds more and more of a connection to a man I will never feel entitled to becoming.
when the living sleep, including the wildlife that surrounds this camp, my alert status inflates a self awareness more than I would like it to. It adds to the doubt I wake up with when no one has to deal with it. to know there are extensions of my old self, to this person I know but barely can have fit in this world. it's down right frightening if this honest bullshit has to be noted somewhere.
Inadequacy has no room but it's made it's own four walls right where other insufficient confidence is housed. Trying to explain this to Isla is bad enough and if she gets it, cool. if not, I don't want to take that chance. to ramble on about nothing for the sake of filling her head with things mending in a way that leases comfort in what will become of me in this never ending insane journey. always something new. Always something going to test your all until when the rug is pulled from under you for the millionth time.
I don't want to crawl back to that familiar dark and crude place, the hole that pushed me close enough to want to slit my wrists and be done with it. can't say if it happened now that i'll bleed out quick enough before the body starts to sew itself back together again.
happy...no, better thoughts.