August 17, 2013

• It appears I am unable to cope without a certain amount of panic and mental disorder.

  I mean, overall, everything is great: my Jester's job situation seems hopeful, my own financial situation is stable, the people who trouble me most at work are going to be leaving us soon enough, and in the mean time they are doing highly useful things for me...all in addition to my recent exceptional productiveness...my family appears to be doing well...I've made headway against my unsociable nature...

  Best. Books. Ever.
  Ever.

  I can read them again and again and again and keep understanding new and somewhat terrifying things and still love every bit of it. I am attempting to interest likely people in reading stories from this author, so we'll see how that turns out. But yes...overall, things are brilliant.

  My Wolf? He is quiet. I feel almost none of the agitation (positive or negative) that makes up most of that characterization.
  Almost none.

  It's this awful socialization. And my relentless capacity for paranoia. (Well, mostly the latter.)
  Something about it is too...perfect. That makes me terribly nervous. This should not be allowed. And probably isn't. And in those small moments where I do sense that bit of myself stirring, it's the smallest tickle of fur against my ear, and the quietest whisper to take care and not get used to this state of things, lest something dreadful happen...

  This, of course, is one of my many significant flaws...the ability to ruin all good things by contemplating the worst possible outcomes, even though nothing has happened.

  • 3:20 am
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