Speaking to his back, vying for his attention, getting a hard no, then
slinking back to my chamber. When did it come to this? I know the
answer. It is the same as always. Always the same. The always same as in
Non-Einstein’s definition of insanity. The follower voice says “don’t be so
sensitive.” I like her less and less after I found out she is a liar. My Scorpio
moon doesn’t compromise on betrayal. I know the answer. I also know
how I feel about the answer. Not yet. Not today. Not the right time. Same
as always. Always the same. The always same. There is a deep groove in
the floor from turning this over in my head. Posing the question, posing
the question, posing the question. Never being comfortable with the
answer. Pretending to not know that comfort is the opposite of the answer.
I distract myself by picking at scabs. It is a short-lived fix. I try again. I ask
the question. I know the answer. I punch myself, fall down, get up, always.