tiamat.

He and I sat there in the dark for a while, my head whirring from fatigue. I looked out at the spruce trees and started wondering how a person could ever get used to seeing something that strange. How could a person ever get used to being surrounded by so many shapes, colors, and textures at any given moment?
I wonder how the soul gets used to being in its flesh and blood container.

Maybe it doesn't.

Maybe that's why we die. We inherently suck at coping with change. We spend too much time worrying about the bad things in our lives; those are the things we attract to ourselves to begin with.
We complicate things. Instead of throwing a rope across the abyss, we're hellbent on spinning the most intricate web we possibly can. It doesn't matter that the rope would suffice - a web is more fun to inspect.

I like to think about the "what if's" that I may, in fact, never know the answers to. I could dwell on them for hours, really.


Right now, I feel a lot like Margo.
It doesn't matter that I'm seeing people every day. It doesn't matter that I've got lots of great stories to tell.

I want away from the web.
I want to go straight forward into whatever the next phase of my life is.
I want to stop looking at things as common as trees as though they just dropped off of some alien spaceship.