Collapsing, Like A Star
There is nothing wrong with my life. I seem to have simply run out of practical difficulties. I mean, I need to find a job for school-time, but it looks like I might be able to stay on doing maintenance for Badger, and the mother-unit has suggested that the parents might be able to help out more financially, which is keen. But... other than that I can't really think of anything. There's also the house-being-torn-down thing, but really, that's more of a serious inconvinience that will crop up sometime in the future. Those exist for everyone, I just know what shape and size mine will come in. Not a big deal.
I passed the econometrics class, I'm going to be attending school come September. I've got a full-time job that is absolutely fantastic. I have an excellent practical system of ethics. Etc etc. I could go on.
And yet, inside of myself, I'm an emotional wasteland. Scorched earth, like some post-apocalyptic landscape burned by the heat of nuclear war or some artist's rendition of hell. Tornados and earthquakes are common, and the sun's rays burn hot upon the ground causing a thin filter of waves to blur vision, causing mirages and other illusions.
I spent the last year figuring out that To recover, it takes more than merely removing the knife, you must heal the wound as well. I had thought I had removed the knife, or knives as the case may be, but fresh wounds litter my psyche and just now can I begin healing those. While I see the wisdom in this understanding, it doesn't make it any easier.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: the dripping of my kitchen tap
Currently Eating: Cucumber and Cream Cheese (both organic)