by practicalspactical

In the incandescent light of early morning night, reading posts and memories from what feels like long ago, but was all recorded over the past 1000 days, give, take, I lose my sense of time — it is almost April, certainly, and then a post from February, not that long ago, time falls away, moments of decision come, I don’t know where I’m going or where I’ll be, I can dance and twist like Mercury, sure, like Quicksilver, but who am I, what will I do, where will I be — distorted cognitions she says, twisted thoughts she says, the depths of my madness, have to try, haven’t done anything — to give up and not be judged —

We are always being judged. Measure is unceasing. Do I meet the measure — I care, I do care, I care deeply, I hate not being the best, all I am is smart —

Maybe I can be kind. Maybe I can be hardworking. Maybe I can be inquisitive. Interested.