let's count the rings around my eyes

No amount of coffee awakens me completely anymore, the sleep has exponentialled, and art-making and garden-plotting doesn't distract from the roiling thoughts. The act of creation, or rearranging present atoms is an act of distraction and introversion, an escape perhaps, from the inevitable emotion or lack thereof.

I'm not sure if the plans for the weekend are what one of my comrades calls  'date-like event' or if it is indeed the real thing, but it's a step of attempted deepening of something, and I find as I get older and everyone begins to pair off and bear children that things are pushed too quickly, that I want slowness to get to know what I'm getting into so I have more reason to run away. It's so much easier when there's nothing at stake.

That isn't happening here yet, nothing yet is making me run for the exits because I'm embarrassed by others' desperation and that hasn't happened yet and maybe I do better with quicker time to act and less time to think. I was just getting so content with this whole solitude thing and now it's getting all messed up.