empty boxes and black shelves of her occult books. 

here a ring under a scarf, she thought one of her spirits stole it, and there a small journal of spells, pungent with the perfume of leaves from her garden. 

the last note a paragraph on resurrections. 

I miss my friend… 

Missing Shadows. Nostalgia bites.

Rice is really nice and light on the stomach

I should probably eat more but I don’t wanna

I think there’s a case to be made for neo-Hardboiled modernism in this generation

With the twitter and sparse attention spans

The easier ones content is to consume the more one will consume it (most likely)

I dated someone with Bipolar once

I think about that person often and how things might’ve been different if I knew more about Bipolar then as I do now

But I myself was ignorant of my aspergers and A.D.D

I miss that person; I wish we went for friendship as opposed to relationship

They were admitted into a mental institution several times, but unlike a previous lover who seemed to always be slipping away or we never quite gelled together (another relationship which would have been better left in the friend-zone), with this one I always felt like I could be there for them no matter what

There’s something about being with a person who has their own demons. Real mental shadows that move things around. A unique bond is formed. Aliens amongst their own.

But I was not the grown up I am today and my default reaction to almost anything back then was to jump ship whenever I felt my presence was detrimental to the person I was around (whether perceived or accurate)

Rather than solve.

The funny thing is; once I knew I was an aspie; I embraced that mindset of solution orientation

But sometimes, starting things intimately and trying to revert back to more friendly parameters is impossible, I know it is with me.

So I remember a shadow of that person. Encapsuled in time, in my memory, reimagined in my fiction and art.

In my heart.

Aspergers and Symbolism (sidetracked by A.D.D)

Symbols are images, and images are visible, tangible (not always but mostly) objects/things.

I write the way I do, read the types of books I read, enjoy the kinds of movies I enjoy and notice physical features others might not BECAUSE of my Aspergers.

Now, what does that say about WHO I am? If within my mother’s womb I was set up for the kind of person I am now?

Personally I have no problem having such sensitive eyes (ooooh) and a vivid imagination, but the question of identity strikes me most profoundly just bellow my gut.

Who am I? Am I who I am? Or is who I am what I really am?

I do no want kids (is it I or is that my internal network of reasoning and logic-crunching?)

I do not want a “partner”, relationships do not interest me (despite my having fantasies of being with the “right” kind of person who matches me like a glove) … I am aware such fancies exist in the realm of television, so with my excessive reasoning I forego the wish to be with anyone. It is entirely logic based (and I like that)

Is THAT me? Or is that little infant suspended upside down in a bag of urine (just facts) already made?

Alas whatever the answer, it makes no difference, not to me at least.

With all of that said, this logic brain values friendships (despite having naught) over anything else because (theoretically speaking) they are choices we make to pick people who (should) be in our lives “till death do us part”, in the most true sense of the sentiment. No ring B.S, no ceremony, just mates (sings “I’ll be there with you”) ’till the end.

Asperganoid OUT.

(Wait what was I saying about symbolism?) Argh!

To all the topsy-turvys!

To all the topsy-turvys!

Hold my digital hand. You are not alone in this cyber-space. We may be strangers, but in our mental ills, we share something deeper and much more unique than most ‘normal minds’ could fathom.

The chaos in our brains leaves a mark more profound than sweet lavender flavoured memories of romantic pasts; for without our minds, what are we, as human beings?

Squeeze my digital hand in times of internal turmoil, know that I understand your pain, your sudden fright borne of chemical imbalances that constantly take you by surprise.

I shan’t be a surprise. I will be the one certainty in life’s chaotic dance. I assure you.

Sincerely, random blogger.