And she watches, and waits.

Lucy in the sky with diamonds…

It is a frightening thing, sometimes, to realize one can take pleasure from pain. Nevertheless it is there, and, oh, how well one can know just where to draw from, and just how far to go with it…but this subject is a heady one, and disturbs people, so I will not deign to dwell upon it, save for one thing: the ties that bind are not always wished broken.

So. Here I am, once again at a state of transition that I didn’t ask for, and having to compensate as best as I can in what ways I know how. I am feeling resentful and angry and frustrated, and I am torn between telling myself it’s all right, you’re allowed to feel, it’s not a crime—and telling myself that it’s self-centered and arrogant and this is no time for things like that, you need to focus on just accomplishing your tasks and get on with it already because feelings like that won’t help you. And the torn indecision on my part is no help in the matter, I assure you, just another wrench thrown in the whirlwind. Is it right to worry about myself, and my future? Or am I supposed to not concern myself with…well, myself…? It’s funny how quickly you can jump back and forth between opinions, and feel equally as strong about either on any given day.

The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t know anything for sure;

that awful lovely lonely universal paradoxical truth that everyone knows but won’t admit because it’s too scary to think about.;

which, like a hell-bent half-living demonic concept of reality preying on delusions and pretty tales, is merely biding it’s time out of sight to grab you at your weakest moment and devour you.

And so, in this frame of mind, without a course of action, I sit, and watch, and wait, for who knows what, some cosmic symbol maybe, to tell me that yeah, okay, it’s time now, go ahead and live already; and in the meantime I worry that it will never come and I’ll just be sitting and watching and waiting forever.

Lucy in the sky with diamonds…