borrowing time
However grateful I am to have a roof over my head, moving home and living with my parents, with out any privacy, has been a bitter pill to swallow and possibly may be a more difficult adjustment for me than living with a terminal illness.
The thousands of days and time spent with friends and acquaintances are now set to a clock that is conducive to my mother's want, I need a ride, as well as those who I go to see that may not feel like driving an hour one way to pick me up.
It is compromise and the matter of fact truth, it is not the desire for a compromise to be made and thus I sit at home, more often than not, idling time away and watching relationships built, distance not out of want, but out of the sheer logistics of not being able to have that one on one, I live close to you and can visit often, relationship.
The sadness is the quality of persons I am being forbidden, in a sense, from seeing for no good reason, just traffic which is something that is not wished for nor appreciated by anyone, my mother included. So when I walk around the house and have nothing to say as my book is finished and my thoughts are complete, I do not not talk out of disgust or anger. I do not talk as I have nothing to say. My freedom has been stripped and I watch my dignity carefully, ever so carefully and make plans to keep it in tact as long as I am able.
Today it is not getting to go see friends. Yesterday was the passport office. Next week I will stop asking for the word of anger is too much for me to listen to in my present physical and mental state. I need to meet more people in this immediate area that could take me on their journey. Allow my spirit to rise...
The thousands of days and time spent with friends and acquaintances are now set to a clock that is conducive to my mother's want, I need a ride, as well as those who I go to see that may not feel like driving an hour one way to pick me up.
It is compromise and the matter of fact truth, it is not the desire for a compromise to be made and thus I sit at home, more often than not, idling time away and watching relationships built, distance not out of want, but out of the sheer logistics of not being able to have that one on one, I live close to you and can visit often, relationship.
The sadness is the quality of persons I am being forbidden, in a sense, from seeing for no good reason, just traffic which is something that is not wished for nor appreciated by anyone, my mother included. So when I walk around the house and have nothing to say as my book is finished and my thoughts are complete, I do not not talk out of disgust or anger. I do not talk as I have nothing to say. My freedom has been stripped and I watch my dignity carefully, ever so carefully and make plans to keep it in tact as long as I am able.
Today it is not getting to go see friends. Yesterday was the passport office. Next week I will stop asking for the word of anger is too much for me to listen to in my present physical and mental state. I need to meet more people in this immediate area that could take me on their journey. Allow my spirit to rise...
posted by the warrior at 11:25 AM
1 Comments:
I love your Blog, very interesting!!
My name is Phil W Little and
I’m the author of Hostile Intent and Hell In a Briefcase
You are more than welcome to visit my page.
Detective Matt
Cooper.blogspot.com
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