A Dream of Fatigue

It is officially a new day, but they all feel the same.  A haze rests on the garden bench.  I question it all as I think of drinking coffee, not tea.  I am not what people thought I would be.  I fight, but I also know when to resign.  No one out there is a friend of mine.  I do not really consider myself a rebel.  I see myself as a tiny pebble.  As I skip across the glassy surface of the St. Croix River, in Maine of St. Croix, I know that my grandfather always wanted a boy.  He wanted a male soldier, not a female like me.  His Merchant Marine heart created my lack of destiny.  It was not just him, it was so many.  Opportunities along the way, I did not have any.  I was schooled is the public system with a quiet private university after graduation.  It always caused me constant alienation.  I was not aware of what was said behind my back.  That is why it was so easy to attack.  It was best because I needed to be free of all the hypocrisy swirling around me.  I know that I am not divinity, but I do think that I deserve a place to be.  My cat is important to me.  I just do not want to even hear the word SHE.  Now this pebble rests by the sea.  I cannot move and I know there is no destiny for me.  It is not a place to glean pity.  It is a spot to evaluate this city.  I cannot move, thus I just meditate on the inner chi.  Though in pain, I have times of great comedy.  As I bathe by the sea in my tub, my long session of soaking eases the pain and my aching feet I do rub.  My muscles are so very soar.  I rarely now venture out even my apartment door.  In the tub I wash my hair.  I use a thickening product because I do care.  I really let it soak in.  I draw the conditioner through the follicles to eliminate the spin.  My hair is getting longer, thicker, and stronger.  Through the work I do, puffing is a reality.  I have weight gain to prevent fatality.  It is hard to self-imbue, but I do not really want to be around any of you.  After the surreptitious acts of the day, I am so glad that Pharaoh is okay.  He was a little petulant for a time.  Being around me in this much agony for him is not sublime.  He is showing signs of true altruism now.  When I am really hurting he waits to ask for his wet food and I am like, HOLY COW.  His gifts have started binging off of technology at this time.  His telepathy is now being verbalized in words on TV, simultaneously, as he says them in his mind.  Being stalked, people have talked.  I have my say this way.  It may seem like Ripleys BELIEVE IT OR NOT, but I have even been friends with the nephew of Pol Pot.  I accept along the way, and he does too.  Chab, I really do miss you, and I love you too.  Love, Hope