The last post was to have had words but I got stuck; somehow I could not add words other than to the caption.
c'est la vie, eh?
I am trying to finish off the trilogy of Stieg Larrson books: The Girl with the dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, and the The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. So fun to read. So well done.
And so, I was reading, trying to get about the horror movie in my head - movie with only audio so maybe it isn't a movie. It is an LP that is stuck in a groove with the same sound. I had to laugh as I took a break from the Hornet's Nest and thought what a farce my life has turned into. I tried so very hard to do the right thing and only now, when I can do essentially nothing with my knowledge, do I really get how things should / could have been done. I could write a book on that subject alone.
I could scream or break things or do some rogue activity with the frustration I feel inside. I have messed up damned near everything and seem to continue to do so. No one has the patience to figure me out and I have no idea of how to express myself and I cannot even thing of a good reason to do so. I always wanted, more than anything else, for people to understand me (whatever that may mean). I just wanted to be loved and understood. Now, I know that love is probably there or at least was but the rest ??????
I don't even know how to flesh out this idea, it is something that hangs subconsciously like neuronal stalactites. What garbage this would sound like to another being. There is truth in this but the flesh is missing.
and so it goes.
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