I wasn't prepared to hear them say they'd stay. I wasn't prepared for him to hug me. I definitely wasn't prepared for her to get mad about something I wasn't aware she wanted. But that's always the way of it. I think and I think, and I think that I'm thinking. In the process of which I don't notice what's actually happening. It's a bit of a problem. Being concerned with loss. Being tongue-tied with embarrassment. Being overwhelmed by fear. These are things I thought I was finished with, but the cold creeps in and the child of the sun shrivels and hides. She may not wake up again till Spring. And by then it may be too late. They just might give up on me like they did someone else.

It's amazing how tight the trigger has gotten. But no matter how many times it's fired the tension never lessens. (wow, this could read really disgustingly....) Maybe it's because the target doesn't really exist. It's a doppelganger. Not even a shadow of it's own image. Just something created with smoke and mirrors. But I think and I think, and I think and the swirling obscures reality so it can never be found again. Too many costumes have been fitted one over the other and the actor himself has been lost from sight. (wow, can I think of another metaphor?)

I think I'm done for today.