In a very uncomfortable position. I miss him. A new one. An old one. Maybe it’s just my hormones playing a trick on me. It’s hard not knowing what is real.

To be history-less; what a dream, ain’t it? If it could ever be. What would I be? There’s this weird tension in my chest from making decisions. It’s hard being a fore-ground figure. It’s what people always have wanted me to be. Some have genuinely believed me to be one, too, I reckon. And, well, you know, yes, I am in it with my heart but I’m doing it in my own way. I’m concealing information which I know should be brought into the light. Building castles of air. Occasionally parts of them vapour; reality catches up and I see how my future fills up with, let’s be frank, negative bullshit. I do not have the time nor the energy to deal with that. But still I have a hard time saying no. It seems as if my well-being is not alibi enough for me to be freed from it.

I wrote this yesterday. Today I may have changed my mind a bit. Or, it’s just another form of avoidance. An illusion I’ve created semi-conciously. But this much I know: we are herd animals, inevitably. For good and for bad.