Detachment...

denial, destiny. I arrive at assumptions of some type of guilt in these. I know that I cannot force anyone to feel a certain way, or do a certain thing. Perhaps it's so. Is it a disservice to allow these sleeping dogs to lie, while the rest of us tip-toe past?
If they wake, a small sacrifice (dignity, comfort and security are good bets) will often mollify the fearsome beast long enough to forget. And wait.
I feel the inkling of alarm bells, but also know where the lines are drawn. I am resilient where I need to be, and fragile when I can.

If this is cryptic, I apologize. I may be more forthright over at myspace, just because some of my dearest friends are there, and because I've been "there" longer, and have my comfy little preferred list.
I have to think that some brighter, warmer days would help. I look forward to them. If I did not have friends, and some indulgences, it would be considerably more difficult.
The error of my ways are just that. Mine. I will do better.

A tonic is the burst of energy I can feel looming with the change of seasons. Many things need doing. I am equal to the tasks, for they are fully surmountable. This is comforting, as is the work I enjoy when time allows. Paint the windows, walls, and clean all of the above. Pieces of cake, each of them.
Ice cream, anyone?