Touch, I remember touch,
Pictures came with touch.
A painter in my mind,
Tell me what you see.
Writing helps me more than reading. Reading gives pauses and my mind wills an image my chest, my heart cannot support. My body weakens to match my mind. For months I have tiptoed and jumped between the line of sanity & control.
But now I’ve been spun around and shoved, tumbling down into a pit I cannot escape.
Too tired to read & write.
I thought I only had to wait until this Friday! It’s next Friday! Wah.
As much as I find my teenage years embarrassing, I find a greater sense of pride that I am no longer that person. Thinking back just makes me smile. I was clumsy, I was goofy and I certainty held little self worth by the time I finished school.
But now, I’m good. I can value the events and the people who’ve shaped me because I like myself. My body, my identity and my individuality. My being. There comes a lot calm and a lot of comfort from that. Also, an income helps.
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Every midnight met with meh.
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I had a great first day working for Quicklink today. It’s been great learning again, not only today, but in the days previous. New techniques, new languages. Finally have purpose.