It is Tuesday

My head is pretty stuffy and I feel mildly dehydrated. Guess drinking cranberry juice most of the day isn't helpful to anyone in warm weather even if you're not doing anything particularly strenuous. Must have been the salty buttery popcorn I ingested. I have an issue w/ retaining salt... as a result my right foot swelled a bit but I think I can get in down in time for today's shoot (hopefully).

I have other pains... some of my own doing and some are the doing of others. I feel I can't really speak about them. For a while I've been on the fence about censoring myself. I could write about certain things privately and effectively get them out of my head space but what good is it to write anything that no one sees? The bottom line being that on occasion I do get some good advice from unexpected places. I can't write something to myself and get advice from.... my computer or journal on what to do. I can't get a confirmation that I'm either nuts, diluted... or sane from such mediums... thus I see no point in confiding in them.

Who does one confide in? I suppose it should be the weird creepy old men who come out of the wood work claiming friendship. I guess I'm going a bit off of speculation but in any case I'm not so sure I wanna forge a bonding forcefully w/ anyone. If friendship is to happen it will, if not things will remain unchanged.

As of now I'm unsure of how to feel... I think I'm inundated in so much I'm cutting off myself from my true feelings. (I hope that makes sense as I can't be anymore specific than that.)

Sometimes I escape to flights of fantasy, in day dreams I'm not this person I'm actually successful, have millions of friends and make all faces smile... soft lighting abound, everyone is healthy and prosperous. Pain is an illusion and nothing bad every happens to anyone. Reality being... friendship is fleeting. Best friends are the worst of enemies when the mood fits and hurt you far worst than any troll infested inter-webbing sludge or any school yard bully beat down. People claim a closeness that neither have probably never experienced nor will they ever. The wolves wait in hiding for the proper moment to strike... secretly, waiting...

Here and there , tinges of pain... body and mind.... this will pass... it has to for there's work to be done and pain waits for no one.

Transmission Ended