Life passes. Days skip by and the only thing I notice is the mounting laundry. It's not a bad life, really.

There are deficits and there are... things that are okay.

None of the horrible little flashes of anxiety lately, of which I am thankful. It's strange, when they don't come. I forget they are real, forget how they feel, forget how they crush their way through my chest, balling up sharp and crinkly like tinfoil. They've never been a regular thing, not so much that I consider them a problem, really. I don't know why I've lately noticed their absence. I do not learn to count on that though.

Halloween has come and gone and it just means that November is here and I'm trying NaNoWriMo again. 2089 of 50,000 today and I think I'm going to go write a little more.

I forget.

Currently Listening All Hour Cymbals By Yeasayer see related