First - more tea
Saturday morning bliss. The thick socks I bought myself for xmas, supplies in. Brew made and junior (bless every perfect aspect and direction in his precious body and gentle and lionlike soul) is elsewhere. Wrote about murder, not of a baby or child. Someone who was registered. With family, with history. I dont feel much in the way of fear or regret about it, I'm sure it will come though. I just feel a little bit more like a human being, a little more like I am part of my own body and mind more than my past. I was imagining I was trying to explain something to someone in a pub. When I didn't have the luxery of not being to remember. When I had to give people answers. Not because I was tortured into it but people needed answers. They needed alternative explanations about all the shit that was going on had gone on the wasn't based on manipulating them to an agenda that did not and would never have their best interests as a priority. Even if most of the time a...