Absence. in Whey and Sonic Screwdrivers.

It was easier when I could feign anonymity. Splay myself before the world, as I did a decade and a half ago. Then I shared too much.

Sometimes I think about starting over. But, what then? As with OD, we all hope for that one response to uplift us. To know we’re being heard. If I start over, pretending not to be Timmy, nobody will hear me. And we all know I’m a little boy who hopes someone is listening.

I’m a creature of avoidance. Escape. I do this when I sleep. Clearing my mind doesn’t work, it makes me painfully aware that I’m awake. Feeling the blanket, the air, the cat next to me. It’s easier falling asleep if I fill my thoughts with complete fiction.

I lost a girlfriend, which drove me to this current depression. Then I lost my mom, and another girlfriend. I was hoping I would recover, but my mind is blocking all thoughts. And not in ways you’d expect. It was weeks after she died that I finally cracked, but that isn’t what’s bothering me now.

The inheritance papers. And the phone call to the whatever that I need to contact regarding it.

That’s it. That’s what stresses me. Not 2074 pages like the Affordable Healthcare Act, but oh fuck, legal stuff makes me hope I don’t fuck up. What if I jot something down wrong? I don’t even know where to begin with this pile of papers. Nevermind that I need to mail this gigantic packet. How do I mail it? I’m sorry, but the post office intimidates the fuck out of me. They always have the attitude of “you should know this already”.

I’m a manager at a Taco Bell, bitch, don’t give me that attitude. I assume everyone’s an idiot, and I do it with a smile.

I should probably take my cats to the vet. They haven’t been to one since they were de-girled. Hard to believe they’re five now. Kira and T’Pol are indoor cats, so they’re relatively safe. They just puke their food at random. I can NOT figure out why. Same food = puke. Different food alternated = puke.

Of course, then they snuggle up with me to try to earn more food. Or maybe it’s just post-puking discomfort.

Sigh.

Kira just jumped on my lap. I think my issue with petting dogs is their fur isn’t as soft. I mean. Where do I pet? Where do I scratch? Cats give clear communication.

Though, in defense of dogs, I recall Molly. I was eating a grilled cheese at my grandma’s. She wandered in, smelling my food. I swirled my finger and indicated for her to leave, without saying a word. She left the kitchen with her head down. I mean, wow. I miss that dog.

Now I’m just babbling. But that’s the best part of my writing, rather than when I plan everything out, now? Live long and prosper. May the way of the hero lead to the Triforce.