Run where? Fight how?

I briefly indulged in speculating how that conversation would go but gave up before I really began, gave up because really, in what world would that conversation ever occur? Not this one, surely. I gave up speculating and then promptly forgot about the whole endeavor entirely, until it was entirely too late for discretion. And now I find myself, what... is this panic? Is this hunger? Is it irritation? Well whatever it is, I find myself wondering once again what the not-so-casual on-looker would make of my indiscretions of the last few days. Marcus, anyway, called me sassy.

I am gonna go out on a limb and say I've faced some challenges this year. Yesterday about midway up the stairs at ChurchKey I was suddenly overcome with the precariousness of my position; the consequences of my missteps are so consequential now. It's hard to go about my business knowing that all of my mistakes are so magnified while all of my tiny little triumphs remain so, so tiny. So little. And yet the slightest cut bleeds and bleeds and jeez, the melodrama of it all, you know? I thought I outgrew this crap years ago.

Anyway, I've been super busy. The details aren't really important but man, am I fucking tired. Pete was in town after the storm and what started out as a couple drinks for happy hour turned into closing down the bar with laughter and text messages and and the creeping sadness that fills the vacancy left by absent friends. All things considered I'm super content, but I'm also super sad, like down in my bones, and I don't think there's much that can be done about it. I wonder sometimes if maybe this is what middle age is all about--someone told me that once, I think, a long time ago--lower highs, higher lows, I don't know, I can't really remember any more. But there are things, so many things, to fill one's days, and mine are filled to overfull.