3 Cheers for Ambiguous Indirection.

I'm disgruntled, and I'm not quite sure how to articulate it.

Maybe disgruntled isn't the right word - frustrated, perhaps? Nubs keeps kneading at my thighs, just to further my enjoyment of the darkening day. Her tail is so weird. I felt it today. Like, really felt it. And you know what it feels like? A crooked nub. Her face makes up for it, though, and I love her - abnormality and all. Because that's what love is, right? That's what caring about another is about, I suppose. Or you would think I'd suppose.

I think I think too much. I think more than I should have thought, and thought more than I should have thunk. I end up driving myself crazy over nothing in hopes that it's something, or just the opposite. Maybe it's the estrogen, or maybe it's simply my haggard eyes staring at the screen, searching for any means of a focus to inscribe at the moment. Creativity is lagging, yet somehow, the sharp claws of the feline are pushing me onward.

What to write.

I know right from wrong.

I also know up from down. Furthermore, I am now knowledgeable of the fact that samples are slim at Costco on Monday afternoons. My severely disciplined-in-the-art-of-ethics self is hard to please; my conscience consistently gives me slack. Like an overbearing parental figure making me rethink the decision of another bite of cake, I can't seem to escape. I'm running, and running as quickly as I can to, well, live. The enigmatic shackles that drag behind me continue to hold; I want to be happy.

That's it. I just want to be happy. The sounding of a text message on my phone just went off down the hall, and I would like to go get it. I would like a lot of things. But I only need a few. Please be the one I need.

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