teleos
ADHD or personal failure got me locked up like an animal in a bare cage, and the worst part is that I’m making the fucking bars and the lock to boot. fucking let me out, I say, as I dangle the keys from my hand.
fuck me for turning 40 and discovering that there are new depths to the nadir.
sometimes winter is also a study of colour – the last red, the gentle dull brown, and the glorious, prismatic frost.
winter invites the study of shape, light, and shadow.
(as an aside, how fucking grateful am I that this ONE SOCIAL MEDIA avenue is reasonably concealed from my family. one fucking place to be a tedious freak.)
Anonymous asked:
Hey just a reminder that thought crime doesn’t exist and pretending to have empathy is just as good as having it! You can be the world’s biggest dickhead in the privacy of your own mind and as long as you’re outwardly kind it literally Does Not Matter
i actually really needed to hear this. love this outlook, thank you.
Speaking as someone broken, this is nice.
Today was not a good day, and in a way, it was. I was badly off this morning, as I’m turning forty tomorrow and the only thing – the ONLY thing I wanted – was to do some astrophotography at a local site. I gave up the promised trip to Jasper because it was too inconvenient; I didn’t ask for anything else. Just to go out at night and take pictures. Turns out that family members lost my astro lens during the move. (Long story.) Can’t afford to replace it.
So this morning I had to go to the woods. I didn’t want to. I got out of the car and left my camera in my backpack. I walked through the trails at full speed, angry and hurting so much I wanted to cry. I hated everything around me, hated being there. I don’t think I saw anything on the trip in.
I turned around, because my dog was uncomfortable. I was stomping back through the woods, just as angry and hurt, when I looked up and saw her. First time ever seeing a deer at close range in the river valley.
I dropped the leash, dropped the bag, and started frantically tearing my gear open to get at my camera. I got it out; I took pictures of her. (Many pictures.)
While she was there, while we looked at each other, I felt no pain or human injury – just a sort of awe that I’d met her on the trail today. My dog put her paws up on a log to curiously look at her. She browsed, unconcerned. We moved on to leave her to her breakfast.
The rest of the trail was the usual calm experience, with an extra encounter with coyote at the end (a couple of meters away).
I am grateful that I had some help to forget myself a little while.