Did I get a cryptic answer to one of my questions?
1070/174? Where are you?
Tell me?
Am I supposed to love my slavery?
Am I supposed to love illusions?
Lies?
Pain?
Inconvenience?
Being oppressed?
Willful ignorance?
Needing for something to die to continue as I am over and over again?
A place that has deteriorated so much from its birth it is no longer recognisable?
Did I flunk another test?
Or is being flatlined enough after I get to where I'm going?
Actually a part of me is already there.
The part that counts.
I find it hard, if not impossible to embrace a midden heap.
I also find it hard to embrace the servitude I asked for, knowing what I know.
But despite the fact I know so much more than the majority, it's not nearly enough.
Still. . .thanks for the reminders I got this weekend, though I am harder to impress.
