So something that I started has rolled into a tumbleweed of sorts. It's still so foreign mostly. The little person who lives with us has been more receptive of my raw emotion than usual so his diatribes have been long winded and (sometimes blissfully, sometimes annoyingly) constant. I've stepped outside myself and realized that this is my little push outward, if he weren't here I might draw completely inward until practically catatonic with indecision.
We play and make things and I can forget for a few minutes what I fool I am. I can forget my ridiculous personality and unwrap the good human from underneath a mummy's dressings. I wish I could burn the muslin for good, but every night I wrap it back around myself, and entomb the bright and sunny self again.
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