I hate that feeling when you don’t know what to do with yourself; when you’re alone, and there’s plenty to do, but you don’t do any of it because all of it seems foreign, like you just walked into a stranger’s life and know that it’s incumbent upon you to make a passing impersonation. It’s that feeling of wanting to flee, and damn near doing so. What to do…
Yours in Contemplation,
PS. I know that it has been a while since I’ve posted something substantive. I’m trying, I promise.