The Feeble Rage of the Grown Gifted Child
I can't think of what to say as I start typing this out at 2:30 in the morning on what will eventually turn into a proper Wednesday, but I'm full of the waning remains of Shawarma, a can of coke and a third or so of what was left of a mickey of fireball whiskey...
So I type. And I see what becomes of that. Like this life thing, I verb and see what comes next, ever so slowly. It's not fully being in control, heavens no. I don't call the shots here; the debt and the mortgage and the company I work for, they're the ones that do that for me. Sure I get to pick out a new shirt or what colour of cereal pellets to ingest occasionally but that's about it. At least for now.
Things keep happening around us. My partner and I. And we'd very much like them to stop, for a few years at least. Just to give us some time to regroup, y'know?
Maybe 2025'll be the one...
Things will change, for the better, at some point. We'll have a couple of things wrapped up early next year for sure. It's just that the taking forever is starting to take forever.
Coming to grips with the world lying to you about pretty much everything since you were 8 years old is one thing. Not being in a position to do anything about it, now that you do know, is another.