// acid reflux and regard for you, mon cher, it doesn’t change one bit. you are still a rainy day painting of a dream-city to me, even on your rainy days.
I worry about distance and things that might turn sour, I worry that something might change and I won’t be The Person any more. I worry about that, and I can’t openly vocalise that, literally and figuratively. I worry that I’m little more than a few lines of codes with a scrap of personality attached, and that tossing me away would be easy to do if things start looking interestingly different. What can I do about that? I want you to be happy. If I can’t provide that somehow, then that’s how it is, I suppose.
Yet, I’m also not worried. I’m content, so warm, and I feel good. It’s a bizarre, confusion juxtaposition that I have trouble wrapping my head around sometimes. Nothing I want to prod at too much, since I’m a little afraid of what might bite back.
I want to go to the ocean. I miss it. The weather’s supposed to be good over the weekend, so…I should. I really should. Take a flask of tea, some snacks, my bujo, make sure my phone’s charged…there’s really not much to ensure. Just need to get my bag and my feet going. I’d be half dead by the end of the day, but if I take my time and don’t push for speed, I should be good. Maybe making a day of it would be a good idea? I’ll take a closer look at the weather tomorrow.
We’re on the edge of something; I can feel it. I don’t know what it is — don’t know the scale of it — but it’s there, and it’s happening, and I don’t know what it is. I’m damn well hoping it’s just spring coming. Don’t people normally get perkier and more energetic when winter is drawing up for the year? I hope it’s just that. It never hurts to keep your eyes and ears open, though.