Comfy

Are you?
Sitting comfy?

How do I need to behave to keep you that way?
Comfy, I mean?
Do you need to be able to understand what I do, what I decide, or what I choose?
It's always easier when we mutually understand - but to insist on it, to believe it to be necessary, would result in paralysis.

Listening is good.
Dictating is not.
Except, apparently, when bringing up children ...

One month today. It's the 6th of December. At least it's not a Saturday. Beautiful Saturdays at 6 pm ... a hearse leaving the house, ambling slowly and respectfully up the long, long driveway ... the still air and the internal keening.

There's some stuff I feel that I wish I didn't.
No one else needs to know what those things are, necessarily - but it helps sometimes to admit them to myself.

It's always a bit tough being beyond the emotional pale.
It is frightening when our friends go there, veer outside the polite-conversation and manageable-eccentricity range - it makes it that much harder to paper over our own cracks and to avoid confronting questions.

"Why do you want so much?"
I don't know. Why is it frightening to you that I do?

L