(no subject)

It is entirely possible that I'm simultaneously believing the people whose attention I'm striving for aren't nice _and_ refusing to put up with cruelty in my life, intentional or not.

The dog only chases the cats when they run. The cats only run when the dog chases them,

It's an easy conclusion, everyone who doesn't love me isn't nice. And there were years when I wouldn't have been able to have the word nice in my mouth without it being a dismissal or an insult. But I've changed. I'm sloughed off so many doomed, angry layers of skin, I don't need or want my candle to burn at both ends, I want my passions more personal. And this still sounds like an defense, that I think this life has to be justified.

And I'm still working on some sort of nerd fallacy, that living must be some desperate scrabble for attention, that the entire world is hierarchical and that I'm trying to get the attention of the rung above me. But I wouldn't trade the people in my life who do love me for a thousand awkward fumblings. Light is still hands down the best person I know and it stands to reason that even if such strata existed, he'd be at the top.

My November schedule is crazy, it's possible that I'm pretending that the world outside my house can be stored up, as though I was a chipmunk, against the coming winter, against the coming second round of surgery. But for now, I'm here with a snoring doggie, watching a backlog of tv, and poking around thanksgiving recipes. Brussels sprouts with pomegranate arils and hazelnuts.

(no subject)

It is entirely possible that I'm simultaneously believing the people whose attention I'm striving for aren't nice _and_ refusing to put up with cruelty in my life, intentional or not.

The dog only chases the cats when they run. The cats only run when the dog chases them,

It's an easy conclusion, everyone who doesn't love me isn't nice. And there were years when I wouldn't have been able to have the word nice in my mouth without it being a dismissal or an insult. But I've changed. I'm sloughed off so many doomed, angry layers of skin, I don't need or want my candle to burn at both ends, I want my passions more personal. And this still sounds like an defense, that I think this life has to be justified.

And I'm still working on some sort of nerd fallacy, that living must be some desperate scrabble for attention, that the entire world is hierarchical and that I'm trying to get the attention of the rung above me. But I wouldn't trade the people in my life who do love me for a thousand awkward fumblings. Light is still hands down the best person I know and it stands to reason that even if such strata existed, he'd be at the top.

My November schedule is crazy, it's possible that I'm pretending that the world outside my house can be stored up, as though I was a chipmunk, against the coming winter, against the coming second round of surgery. But for now, I'm here with a snoring doggie, watching a backlog of tv, and poking around thanksgiving recipes. Brussels sprouts with pomegranate arils and hazelnuts.