I’m having an overly caring day. I keep noticing small nuances and analyzing each. I wonder how long this will last. I feel so… weak. It’s suprisingly uncomfortable and frustrating.
I was going to write another note-to-self of all of the things my dad has missed since the last father’s day he missed. He died in 1996.
Instead, I’m making dinner for my mother who has recently lost the father of my (half-)brothers.
I wonder if I’ll be less annoyed with holiday in the future.
It’s late. I feel a little afraid. What’s life without let downs? It’d be nice to know, really. But, then again, I am supposed to crave an adventure. So I shall create one. Or let it fall in my lap.