rejectomorph | Clouds, Literal and Otherwise (Reply)

Once in a while, the sun is visible through the clouds. I can look straight at it. It is like a round light fixture of the sort I remember which hung in a dime store we used to visit when I was very young. This is only the vaguest of memories, as misty as this clouded sky. I anticipate rain. Rain would be good. The lawn is the color of straw from lack of water. The water bill has been too high, and would go even higher if the lawn were sufficiently watered, so we've let it survive with a minimum of irrigation. A decent storm would give it a late summer sheen once again.

I'm still finding it difficult to concentrate, and even this change of weather which would ordinarily capture my attention and bring me some delight is now unable to counteract the distress I'm feeling. Yeah, I'm all full of dark hints, I know, but I'm still unable to reason clearly enough to give a rational explanation of what is bothering me. That's the problem with anxiety disorders. My advice to everyone is never to have one. They make it way too difficult to deal with stressful situations. Too bad nobody has a choice about their brain chemistry.

Maybe I ought to document everything that's going on in private entries, and possibly make them public later. I don't know. I'm confused.

The world needs a do-over.