Back again

I haven’t posted here in a while.

I was thinking about all the things I do differently. I wrote about the concrete stuff on Facebook but here, I can, I don’t know, be more open about what’s happening to me.

To me. With me. For me. By me.

It’s such a wild place to be. This place where my mind is so clear and crystal that I don’t know what to do with all the space. Is this what it means to walk the world with awareness? I feel like I hear every bird chirp, see every flower bloom, notice every fluctuation in a stranger’s face.

In a way it interrupts the writing of stories. To feel like you can see through everything to what it really is.

Someone I loathe wrote to me that things aren’t ever what they seem. Resisting my temptation to get the last word, I wanted to tell him, oh, but sometimes things are what they are, sometimes an asshole is really just an asshole.

When I met that person I was in a place where nothing was what it seemed. My whole life was smoke and mirrors.

Another friend I met around the same time called me complex.

Oh, I was complex. My house of cards was a mansion.