Missionary at Midday

Eleven thirty five. I’m beginning to feel better. I took my gabapentin and a Vitamin D3 and now I’ve donned my hoodie. I felt a little chilled in a T-shirt. Today I’m going to withdraw into myself for a while, as if I didn’t do that enough. During the wee hours I read a little about the French Revolution out of my old history textbook. But I don’t know why it was important to me. Maybe I’m just curious for the sake of curiosity. I wasn’t feeling well. I’m thankful for Aesop’s company today. The clouds have rolled in and covered the sun. Acorns occasionally hit the roof, and the squirrels go nuts over them… I still don’t feel very well mentally. The phone call from Polly really shook me up. I hear voices just a tad. I felt like I wasn’t alone inside my own head.

Quarter of three. I lay in bed for a while. My thoughts were preconscious, just below the surface, and difficult and torturous to me. Then I had my lunch, followed by taking out the trash. Aesop’s behavior is much better now when I do this. I’m trying not to be afraid of my sister’s opinions on sexuality and her missionary attitudes in general. Maybe the best thing to do is to someday talk to her about it all very plainly. Can she be reasonable and respectful? Or will she say I’m possessed by the devil or something else hurtful? Because after all, people have erotic fantasies. Mine started when I was two or three years old. In the end, my sister has no right to judge me.


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