All the strange places are hurting so much I want to cry.
I'm not, though. I don't cry unless there's something to cry about and in my opinion strange pains in strange parts of my body for strange reasons (was this recce really that killer?) don't qualify. cancer is, hernia maybe, but not nameless pin-downless pains.
oh but mannnnnnnnnn.
I remember once reading about concentrating on the pain till it becomes a white ball (the supernaturalists, I think) where you tuck it away and deal with it later. I tried, and AGH!!!!! it became a magnified white ball thankyouverymuch D<
I'm quite stuck, actually. I have two options, to write so abstrusely that it becomes incomprehensible.
of course, I could also crawl into my bed and try to deal with the aches which for some reason have come after the nap.
oh, you sissy. stop complaining.
I'm afraid that I might stone at this line till tomorrow, so here; I'll fill it up. I'm afraid of catharsis and the balance it will shatter; I'll strangle it. I'm afraid of my bed and consequently my thoughts; I am stuck here.
so I've come a full circle.
What is nice, again?
I should not have been so unfair - mean - to you. But a reversal wasn't quite possible, if I was to be serious. At the least, if I was going to make that decision I would need to stick by it. There are some things even I will not treat lightly.
But all of it wasn't quite necessary, was it? That's why I asked you not to hate me. I suppose I knew then what I'm realising now.
I'm sorry. I never wanted to be weak. I just wanted to be sure.
Somehow weakness always trails everything that I try to make concrete.
What is nice again?
Tell you what; ask me. The things you want to know. I'll answer.