I’m at peace with S because he went out of his way to give it to me.

I’m in a mood. Maybe you know it. It’s the one where you’re compelled to create something but you have no idea what. There’s a blank weight looming that wants to worm it’s way out, but — no holes. No windows to see what it is, and no outlets to free it.

Something about S though.

It’s interesting to realize how unusual I feel is really not unusual at all. It’s just not discussed.

I’m at acrossroads deciding to be relieved or disappointed. What does that say about me?

What matters more? Who we are right now or who we’ve been most?