Without a reason, I am experiencing panic attacks again. Maybe I called this to me, in a moment of desperation. Much like the phone calls I have placed to past bad lovers, in the late hours. But, listen, they are familiar. They know me well, and happen not to respect me at all. This can be ignored, so long as they stay by my side, and pretend to care for me. It is easy to interpret just being looked at, as being looked after. If one is needy enough. If one is lonely enough.
The daylight hours are few, and I need all the sunlight I can get. The world says, love me as I am, but I cannot. It is too much to be called upon to accept such imperfections. Then I think, maybe it’s just this city. Stockton is not my home. Though it has only been a few months, I have determined that I can never be happy here.
The dictator has built a fortress inside of me. He lives there with two dogs, two children, and one wife. This did not stop me from going ice skating, last night. While I had never tried this before, I will say that I took to it naturally. As I twirled about with children surrounding me, there was a sense of freedom, with a slight need holding on to my feet. A need to be understood by somebody.