Kurrs' Digital Tapestry of Words

Her scent lingers on me, it climbs slowly around the air about me and I catch a moment's rememberance as it passes by on its orbit across my face. We fought, or came as close to fighting as we get. More of an emotional tension that doesn't really involve the other coming up to a knife's edge, or the point of saturation where the room is dense enough with it. Words and their ownership being relatively irrelevant, a difference in perspective and empathy when other things are wearing. Some of them have causes, others don't. I could write poetry across her back about how much she means to me with my fingers, even though my insecurities still run rampant about in my mind, sometimes blurring the issue.

The week has been long, longer and harder than I expected. These things come to come in droves, not that their quantity is unexpected but more that patterns are easy to form. One, two, three, adding a fourth or a fifth happens naturally, one even seeks it out unconciously. Breaking patterns is easier than following them. Humans are creatures of habit, but arguably everything is beholden to inertia. I've reached capacity, and I feel a bit better now that I've let go.

My brother is in town, a possibly ill timed event but not something I'll begrudge him for. He's been gone to the frozen wastes of my childhood for four months now and there is a point where one wants to remove the yoke and say enough is enough. Disruptive, to say the least, not because he asked, but more because I make myself obliged. I don't see him very often, so I put aside the huge mound of work to engage in a Stef kidnapping and other disturbences of my internal balance. We're off to Pendulum tomorrow, which is also the start of Responsible Consumption Week. Econometrics and Thesis, the twin damacles swords, continue to hang precariously overhead. I'll manage, I hope.

I am tired, to bed I should go.

Written On: Mother's Computer