rush3k
Itchy
Not my ass crack.
My fingers are itchy, I need something to occupy my time. This whole life thing is playing out how I always thought it'll be. Grad, get a job, be content as an individual contributor, then live and live and live and die. The End.
No. I feel I can spy in on my destiny. No doubt any journey to greatness demands uncanny perseverance, willingness to take chances, and a consistent surge of adrenalin for when you're against the enemy. You hear that primal beat in the back of your head, yea, danger danger.
At times when I always felt I'll be at my strongest, I've instead felt the weakest. I wonder often about my widowed aunt, how does she get through. I dont think I'll ever know how to console a person who has been bereaved, there simply isnt enough that can be said or done. This is dicey, I do the best I can, but its still dicey. I play surrogate dad to the twin boys my late uncle left behind, innocent children often talk about their daddy sleeping with the angels. I'm teaching them all the boy things, how to talk like gentlemen, how to dance, how to play video games, etc etc. This is taking its own toll on me.
Rude.