β€œThe oven looked awesome and so did I”

I asked him why he took the photo, and he replied honestly,

The oven looked awesome and so did I hahaha πŸ€·πŸ»β€β™‚οΈπŸ€¦πŸ»β€β™‚οΈ

He, of course, corrected “oven” to “ocean”, but I knew what he meant.

He was not being conceited, nor was he being rude or nasty or macho or anything else negative… he was sharing truly with me, openly and honestly.

It was a gorgeous photo of a gorgeous swimsuit-donned, tanned, and tattooed man on a spectacular scene of two-toned blue ocean water and a blue sky of yet another blue, and the man was smiling with practically no eyes, so large and true was his grin.

I would have longed to have taken such a photo – I would be proud of it for him…, but I would be terrified of such a photo of myself.

To come across as sexual, even sexy, at times, has been ingrained in my mind to equate wrongness, shame, something terrible for myself and the world.

I have only recently begun to appreciate such images of others, and am working on valuing such an image of myself – in accepting it as appropriate as part of my human expression in this life.

My next step in that process, I feel, is being comfortable with a photo like the one I had discussed with this guy tonight.

As he mentioned in our conversation, the intention behind the photo was to show something beautiful – his father had declared the scene and the son as gorgeous, and so photographed what stood before him (as I gladly would have done)… he was not trying to catch anyone’s eye, or get anything out of it – he was just sharing the wonderful memory and scene with the world (for which I and everyone else I know who has seen the photo has been grateful).

So, I want to create some photos of me that are beautifully gorgeous and that I would want to share with the world for their beauty, and then I want to share them with the world.

Yes…, that is my next step. πŸ˜›

Let’s do this. πŸ™‚

P.S. Our whole conversation began out of a conversation my friend and I had, regarding our shared experiences of body image (though from different backgrounds and for different reasons), after she posted this, which included a somewhat sultry photo of her posing on the beach.

She is still Christian, and more beautiful than ever in her confidence…, and I regularly use her as inspiration in my own life, to help me to challenge my own fears and struggles in life that I have yet to transform.

Post-a-day 2019

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The past in the present

I recently came across this bit of journal-esque writing I did several years ago, and, since I found myself reading almost addictively, and I happened also to find it a bit hilarious to see how young I came across – which makes me wonder if I actually sound much older now, six years later – I figured it would be fun to share here, to see now how I wrote in the past… the past at present, so to speak. πŸ˜›

Therefore, happy reading. πŸ™‚

……….

Mon 4 March, 2013

Today I am sitting on the couch. That is not to say or to suggest that this, sitting on the couch, is such an out of the ordinary activity – though it has been the case that for the previous seven months leading up to this week have left me without a couch on which I even could set myself. It is simply to state that today, I am sitting on the couch. I am not really doingmuch of anything else. Unless of course you would like to believe that breathing, watching a film, listening to music, eating food, digesting, drinking drink, and the occasional conversing with one’s stepfather are considered “doing something”. In that case, I’m doing quite a lot today, and am being very productive. However, in my head at least, that is not the case, and I am not up to much today. I am simply sitting on the sofa (Oh, look: I’ve used the word “sofa” this time. Such creativity is at work in me today!). I think it’s because I’m avoiding doing anything else. Perhaps I would feel guilty if I put my efforts to something else other than that which my mother wishes for me to do…. or, for that matter, other than what my father and stepfather wish me to do. That is organize out things in the house and get a job that pays well. They would likely say that they just want me to get a job, almost any job. Just a job that pays is their goal. However, if I were to get a job that pays, but the job is not very fancy and does not pay very much, they would very much be dissatisfied. For example, if I began work with the trash pick-up in the neighborhood, they would not be so proud as to say they were glad for the job. They would see it as an as-short-as-possible-term job for me, waiting for me to get ‘a real job’. What if I profess myself as a long-term devotee to trash pick-up, and that I see it as the first step in making a change in the world? That I must absolutely do this job so that I can understand people better in order to change their way of thinking. That by starting at the base, by discovering what they see to be trash, I can then begin to alter what they see as valuable. What if I do that? Well, I don’t know, but it ultimately does not matter, because I know that is not what I am going to do. Although there might be some value to that idea. I seem to be good at that: pulling some jargon out of nowhere in attempt to prove some point that I don’t fully believe, and then find myself with a quite amazingly powerful argument. I guess it’s one of the talents God has given me. I think it came out of my mental expansion, or whatever one would like to call it. I’ve spent a good deal of time – though time is completely relative, and I have only been physically around in this body for a short time in comparison to the world and, of course, to other people who have been around for “ages,” as women in their forties and fifties and sometimes even thirties an dupper twenties like to say. As I was saying, I’ve spent a good deal of time studying people, and a bit their cultures. I even did it semi-officially for a while in high school and college. More in college than in high school, though I think that fact is somewhat irrelevant. Anywho – that’s a word I’ve come to enjoy in my lifetime, though I’m not actually sure it’s technically a word. But what do technicalities matter anyway when we’re dealing with full self-expression? Anywho, I’ve studied people throughout my life by simple observation and conversation. And interaction, of course. I have spent my whole life sitting on the sidelines, just watching people pass by, taking notes in my little notebook full of comments of opinion about the world around me, completely missing my own participation in it. No, no. I have been quite the participant in life. I just have paid attention while doing so.

My clock on this computer shows that it is currently 20.29. It is somewhere that proclaimed time (speaking of proclaimed time, my computer will tell me in just a moment that it is 20.30). However, that is not technically the time here (oh, look: a technicality). The time here is actually, well now, 13.30. I mentioned that I hadn’t had the availability of a sofa for the previous seven months. That is true. I was living in Wien in a shared room, with two closets, two beds, two desks, two night stands, and a set of shelves comprising the furnishings, and a slightly musky odor filling the air-tight room when my co-habiter was around. Now, the point of sharing this just now is unknown to me. However, I will use the opportunity to make a connection to my studies of people. I was in Wien to learn German. So I said and thought, anyway. I learned much about the peoples living there, as well as much about myself. I also very much developed myself, and was, for the first time in my life, able to proclaim honestly and whole-heartedly that I was exactly the person I wanted to be. Rather, that I was being the person I wanted to be. I still am that person. And that’s great, actually. The trouble comes in, however, at the point where I’m not entirely sure what to do with that person, now. So I’ve done my cultural study in Wien, I’ve learned a good deal of German, I’ve met and visited the family of mine who lives in Germany (and has for hundreds of years), and I have returned to Houston, Texas, where I technically lived before embarking on this last European adventure. I did want to avoid returning, and even began to set up things so that I could succeed in avoiding the return. At least for a while. But the fact that I am here right now shows that I did not do that. I said to myself that to avoid something means to leave something incomplete in your life. After I said that, I realized that I needed to return to Houston. I didn’t actually need to see or talk to any specific people in Houston. I just needed to return to Houston. Because by not returning to Houston, by avoiding the return, I was avoiding what came with the return. And that’s the next step of my life. I’ve always had something sturdy on which I could rely for my immediate and somewhat near future. Until now. And by not returning to Houston, I could avoid dealing with that, with my lack of suredness, with my fear. I would be hiding a fear inside of me. And hiding things really just doesn’t work. No matter how much we try to do it, we cannot succeed in keeping something hidden. Not completely. We ultimately reveal all that is hidden within us, wheter verbally or not. I think it is part of our nature as humans. We’re just plain blabber mouths with everything. If our mouths don’t give it away, our emotions and reactions most certainly do.

A friend once sent me something that said “Only trust people who like big butts. They can not lie.” It still makes me smile, although that friend seems to be in a dissapeared mode right now. He’ll come around. Hopefully it will be before he dies. That would be quite a disappointment for me, and even for others, as he has a lot of potential to make an amazingly large difference for a great number of people in this world, as well as for the natural side of this world. His impact will likely still be large if he doesn’t alter his current way of being, though it will be quite limited and likely very disappointing in comparison to the one he could make with a simple reappearing act. We’ll see. Well, someone will see, at least. I don’t know that you and I will see the future of his situation, or even that I will see it.

So, I said I was not doing much today. I changed my mind. After watching that movie, I was inspired. I still am inspired, and by that film. I changed my footwear and went outside to play some volleyball and to pursue my desire to learn to skateboard. I think we can pursue all of our desired activities, though there is only one time in our lives where we will actually succeed with them. I tried playing guitar several times as I was younger, but never went past a few chords in the best attempt to become a guitar player. In the last year, I have actually taken my own steps, extra steps, to learn to play the guitar. I don’t play much, but I learn to play songs that I like, and I oftentimes become a great deal of ease and release when I play, rather than the struggle that comes to a beginner of a foreign task, as it once was for me. After years of attempts at guitar-playing and even more occasions of stopping the attempt, I finally can play guitar. I’m not amazing like different performers or people who play ‘just for fun’, but I can play and I enjoy playing, and that’s always been the point of my learning to play guitar. The point of this: I’ve finally fulfilled this desire that I’ve attempted several times in my life to fulfill. And the point of that point: We won’t reach certain things until the time is right. The time was finally right for me to learn to play guitar, so it actually worked for me this time – my head was in the right place at long last. This skateboarding thing is similar. I’ve wanted to skateboard as far back as I remember my brothers starting to skateboard. Every attempt has left me unsuccessful, still scared, and oftentimes hurt. I’ve thought for months on this, though, and I think my hesitation, cause by my fear, has been a major factor in my getting hurt. Today, I was not only putting myself out there confidently on the skateboard, but I was almost not even present to a fear. Once I let go of my hesitation, and look at the logistics of the activity (that it required that one just keep balance and GO), it becomes something completely different. It becomes somethign do-able. Yes, it takes practice. But I am capable of it. I find that really cool. Uh-oh. That last sentence might be giving away my age (as though my writing in general in no way does that already). Okay, as I sit here typing, taking the occasional sip from this bottle of Organic Raw Kombucha juice, … I don’t actually have an end to that sentence. I just wanted to say what I was drinking, I think. My aunt is actually making her own Kombucha juice right now. My cousin, her son, apparently taught her how to do it. I believe it takes several days, if not weeks, to make the juice. It wouldn’t surprise me if that were the case. It tastes like it’s been sitting somewhere for weeks before it was bottled and kept in a cooler. It always does, Kombucha juice.

Let’s go back to the part about my age. I was reading a book recently where it was mentioned that adults, grown up people, are nearly obsessed with numbers. Numbers like how old one is or how long one has done something or how far away one is from something or what time one will arrive or how much something costs and the likes. That wasn’t exactly what the book said. It’s what I’ve specifically noticed as being significant to adults since my reading that. I’ve also noticed how I tend to do that. I’ve been working on stopping that. It’s been gonig quite successfully, actually. I do it less and less, and I notice almost every time when I am considering asking a number question, and I opt often not to ask it, as I see the lack of any importance in hearing the answer to the question, thus losing my point of asking the question. But to apphease the adult in me as well as the adult in you, I shall give you at least a few numbers. Seven, twenty-two, three and a half, a few thousand, and eleven hundred.

Okay, elaboration. I’ve just returned from seven months abroad, becoming the person I’ve always wanted to be. Just a few days ago, I became officially twenty-two years old. I completed college in three and a half years. I currently have a few thousand dollars of school loans to repay (I think). And I expect that finding a job that gives me at least eleven hundred dollars a month will be enough for me to live sucessfully on my own for a while until I find something else to do with myself. Oh, and my name means “Grace” in its language of origin. To me it just means “me”, though that’s sometimes scary, as in the times when someone says it with annoyance or frustration, suggesting I’ve done something upsetting and now have to work hard to make things good again. I think to most people, it’s just a name, though. Hannah is it. Hannah banana to certain individuals. I enjoy when people call me Hannah banana. Probably because it shows a specific enhanced degree of love when they say it, when they decide or choose to use it.

Well, I’m going to go back outdoors. I’ve had a good break here writing. Now I’m to continue my goals of improving my volleyball (re-enhancing it, actually, after several years of not playing almost at all) and skateboarding performances. I’ll write again, and likely soon. I guess my sitting on the couch today has altered. Perhaps it’s like addiction problems and other problems. Admitting that one has a problem is the first step to solving the problem. My problem was sitting the day long on the couch. I feel it to be utterly too underproductive for my capabilities. So, once I admitted that fully, I was able to rid myself of the problem. Cool.

13 MΓ€rz 2013

Heute haben wir einen neuen Papst. Francisco. Er ist ein Jesuiten. Sehr cool.

—–

I’ve decided I want to write a book. Not a book like everyone else. But a book in present tense. Yes, in present tense the whole way through. I tell a story with the book, but it hasn’t actually happened until the reader reads it. So to speak. πŸ™‚ Well, that’s my idea, anyway.

………..

P.S. The programming is likely to destroy my double spaces after periods, so, please, kindly ignore that change, and assume the appropriate spacing after each period… yes, I’ve shared all about my opinion on the spacing here… ugh!

Post-a-day 2019

Stretchy

Yesterday, sitting on the floor, legs together straight out in front of me, I stretched forward with both arms, grabbed the bottoms of my shoes, dropped my head, and stretched a bit deeper…

… and my head touched my knees.

!!!!!

This was the first time in my adult life that I was able to touch my head to my knees.

And, you know what?

I just tested it again, just now, and it happened again(!).

Wow.

I started this ’30 Days to a Standing Split’ stretch plan a couple months back, and, though it totally failed on the standing split part, I felt the basic stretch routine was a good habit worth keeping in my daily life.

So, to this day, I stretch the same set of stretches every day, usually just before bed.

I’d been noticing general and overall improved flexibility and movability in myself already, like my arms going ‘farther back and up’ when I stretched them behind my back, hands clasped, but I hadn’t had anything clearly and distinctly different until this week.

At last, with this head to knees thing, I have a specific, measurable result from this stretching(!).

So, extra yay!

My teeth are straightening out their kinks, my muscles are rearranging and growing, and my flexibility is improving drastically… I feel like moving around a lot of the time, and I jump up rather easily from any resting period in my day or night… getting out of bed is, somehow, no big deal – I almost bounce on the balls of my feet every morning, as though preparing to do some jumps or something similar…

My body is finally showing up how I want it to be showing up in my life, and I can see quite clearly how it is the result of my taking genuine care of my body, and having true concern for its well-being… it still is not quite like a temple, but it is darn close, and is improving every week… (still working on the whole exfoliation and skin hydration side of things) πŸ˜›

Now, if I can just get my clothes and owned items organized and handled (i.e. Marie Kondo the rest of my living space) I think I’ll be set to meet the man of my dreams – I will be being exactly the person I want to be and to whom I want him to be attracted, you know?

And, somehow, that idea is kind of terrifying… like I never actually expected to become that person, that woman… she was always just a dream, and not one even to consider trying to achieve, let alone actually achieving…. but anything is possible.

Message to self:

So, let’s stick with it, Banana, and make things happen.

It is okay to be afraid… it is not okay to settle, even if it is due to fear… stand for your best life and your best self, Banana, in all ways, always.

I love you.

Have a wonderful and blessed and beloved night, World. πŸ˜‰

P.S. I just realized that the stretching was actually Monday evening, not yesterday… anyway… πŸ˜›

Post-a-day 2019

Le stress

Click* Click* Click* Click*

L’horloge tourne….

Everything seems to be going so fast, yet so slowly right now in my life.

Just as I start to get the hang of some something or other at work, something else comes along to stress me out again…

So, too, in my life as a whole at the moment.

Perhaps this is the world’s way of changing my mind, my opinion, about something…

But it creates so much unreliability in my near future, that I feel terrified all over again, because this back-up plan isn’t panning out so well as a back-up plan…

But, again, just as a new idea presented itself today, so, too, can ideas I’ve never imagined, let alone considered, come to life and to fruition in a short time, leaving it unnecessary to have stressed in the first place.

Actually, I just realized that my initial plan is a good back-up plan for right now, anyway, so I can calm it all down regarding the stress at work – if they dislike me, they dislike me… if I don’t do it the way they want, I don’t do it the way they want… if I need to move onward sooner than expected, I move onward… and something even better awaits me on the other edge of it all…

Ich vertraue dir…..

Post-a-day 2019

Stress in the Schedule

There is so much I want to share here, yet I find myself, after hours of delay and fooling around, and even further delay, with almost all of it due to my concern about the number of parts that must fit somewhat perfectly in order for tomorrow as a whole to happen, wanting just to go to sleep.

What’s the funniest to me is that I don’t even need to do any of the most stressful parts of it all… yet, here I am, still planning to do them, anyway…

For some reason, I feel like I will be throwing away something by not doing them all…, throwing away an opportunity… perhaps of being the person I want to be…

Perhaps, that last one is why I feel almost afraid of not going and doing it all tomorrow… I have waited this long, who is to say I won’t wait this long again to take further steps to be who I want to be in life?

That’s the fear I have here…, so, I guess by separating the concern from the facts of the matter (I’m going to bed way late, and need sleep in order 1)to function and 2)to take care of my body), I can select what to do in the morning, and not have to feel bad, in the case that I don’t do them all tomorrow.

I definitely want to do them and am a bit scared to do them…, but it is okay not to do them tomorrow, if that means I am being responsible for myself and my well-being, and if I set up appropriately what to do instead.

Okay, well, we’ll see tomorrow, I suppose.

For now, goodnight.

Post-a-day 2019

Si tu savais…

Si tu savais… comment je doute… parfois

Si tu savais….. ce que je ne dis Γ  personne d’autre….

Si tu savais…..

There’s this song by the francophone (I think he’s actually French, but I’m not sure) singer who goes by the mononame Corneille, called “Si tu savais”.

The title means, “If you (only) knew” (the only being a matter of what the phrase is intended to mean by its use).

Those lines were repeating in my head tonight, and had me wondering about the song and about my life.

I don’t know the rest of the words to the song – I first heard it when I knew very little French, so not much stuck, and I still get lost in the rhythms nowadays, because I’d grown so accustomed to doing it when I was back in high school – and so I can’t even guess knowledgeably as to the purpose or meaning of the song as a whole.

I only know my own initial interpretation based on those few lines and the desperate, melodious, melancholy that is the tone of the song, the feel of the music.

To me, he is singing, as I mentioned, in a sort of desperation and pain… either he wants to tell her everything, but he is afraid she won’t want him anymore, or he fears telling her everything, because she thinks he is the best thing ever, but he is telling her in the song how he has faults… or, even, she thinks he is full of himself, and he is telling her how he is not… or perhaps he is telling her how he only shares openly with her, but she doesn’t realize it, nor that it means he loves her… whatever the case, if only she knew… how imperfect and insecure he really is… how much he loves her… if only she knew…

Whatever the case, these lines hit me in a new way tonight – considering the song as though it were based on someone’s real life, I asked myself how it could apply directly to my real life.

When would I say the words, “If only you knew,” in such a manner as Corneille in this song?

What do I not say to anyone else?

What would I want to say to the love of my life and not to anyone else?

What do I wish I could say to others, and not have to worry about being discarded, neglected, expelled, despised, etc. from whatever facet of life those listening occupy?

And it is this last one that really got me the most, I think.

I wish I could share my greatest faults and fears, the way the werewolves do in the Twilight books – just get over it, please… it’s a girly story, sure, but the creativity is definitely there, and you comedy bits are all over the place, making it a true delight even for me, not just an okay story, as so many declare it (mostly after only seeing the movies) – where they can’t hide their thoughts, feelings, emotions from one another, and the whole pack accepts the rest of the pack willingly… they all know the minds of the rest, and they all still respect, love, and care for all the rest (even if some do get on others’ nerves from time to time).

In that kind of world, we wouldn’t have to worry about our secrets – everyone would know everyone’s mess-ups, and so we’d kind of have to get over it pretty darn quickly, if we wanted to function in life.

I enjoy that people no longer are allowed or able to judge me by my age (because I don’t give it to them anymore), but I would be willing to give that up, in exchange for all my sins, so to speak, to be washed away from concern of being (1) found out and (2) held against me.

Could you imagine?

I almost can, but not very well… I think I’m mostly just afraid of the idea, because I don’t trust people enough…

J’ai pas trop confiance en eux, en fait…

Post-a-day 2019

Un Cauchemar

Have you ever had a dream that seems to shake you to your core?

One that seems so real, it is difficult, at first, anyway, to determine that it was not actually real, but just a dream?

And, though I said dream, I more meant nightmare

Last night, – rather, early this morning – I suffered one of these nightmarish, lifelike dreams.

I live in a house that also houses a religious space (like a chapel, but of a different faith) and a yoga studio.

This morning, starting very early, long before sunrise, there was a special morning meditation being hosted.

I was not attending, but I knew about it – similar morning meditations happen regularly.

However, after some recent events, in which one person who comes here regularly did not follow proper protocol for arriving, for cleaning up, nor for closing up after classes, I now always have a slight concern regarding this person’s reliability to fulfill the necessary tasks to keep the location, and, therefore, myself safe.

And so, last night – early this morning, after a potty break around 1am – I had an odd combination dream.

I was living in a different house, but it was clearly meant to be this same house, with me in my top floor apartment/area.

It was this morning, and I awake in the dream to find that no one informed me of the fact that the morning meditation was taking place on the top floor – aka in my room, which is not community space, mind you – but several people have already arrived and are participating in the morning meditation, and my things have all been moved out of the way and rearranged while I was asleep.

It is dark outside, still, due to the early hour.

Eventually, I participate in the meditation, as well as in welcoming new arrivals, and helping them get set up to join the meditation.

At some point, the meditations is ending, but I have to leave, possibly to go to work, and so I am not present for the end of it.

When I arrive home later, everything has been moved in my room to all new places – yes, even different from what had happened early this morning – and nothing makes sense.

Two people are still in my room, and comment, clearly somewhat bothered, on the fact that I am moving my bed to elsewhere in the room (aka where it had been in the first place).

One of the people is that unreliable individual.

I am too tired to care, and I need to go to sleep, because I know I have another very early morning the next day for the gym and work (as usual), so I go to bed and to sleep, while they are still discussing plans for something or other, still in my room for whatever reason.

I fall asleep rather easily, as I am so tired.

Suddenly, hours later, I awaken with a start and a sense of near-panic, as all my hairs are prickling all over my body.

The two from earlier have left.

But someone is in here.

Someone I don’t know.

I knew instinctively that the unreliable duo had not locked the doors to the house properly…

I was in trouble, and I could feel it.

I turn to find a woman in black suit, hair almost shaven, her skin only a few shades lighter than her suit, and her face showing a terrifying emotionless expression… almost animal-like… something in the back of my mind mentions a wolf, like the one from “The Never-Ending Story” a typically I like wolves, but this one was not cool…

Her entire presence speaks and oozes cool rage and the explosion of a pistol – she emanates a silent, fear-inducing aura, and her facial expression never changes… she looks and somehow sees me, and I know she sees me, but she doesn’t acknowledge me… it is clear that she has known of my presence and has been waiting…

My brain processes quickly, and decides to aim for pulling of a guise of ignorant kindness..

‘Hi! You’re here for the event, right?! I’ll take you to it – it’s actually downstairs. I’ll show you. What’s your name? How are you doing today?’

I carefully take her left arm arm in a casual yet ready grip, and then hold her opposite hand’s thumb with my left hand, so it looks like we are arm-in-arm, and then holding outside hands across our bodies… really, I am being extremely sweet and physically loving as a means to keep track of her more effectively – danger is the feeling of her.

Somehow, in this piece of the story, there mixed in a small portion of my trying on clothes for the morning… I currently had on a jacket that I was not going to wear to work, because it was too restricting and tight… and I did not have on my knife, because I was only trying on the clothes, and it was still attached to my actual outfit that I had been wearing… my phone was by my bed, and I missed the chance to grab it when I first jumped up to grab her arm…

I was evaluating my steps, and found concern in my lack of safety, but I couldn’t let go of her now and turn back – I could feel how that was the wrong move, even more so than the others.

And so, we ventured downstairs, arm-in-arm, as I chattered away, and thought of what options there were for me.

No one was awake, so I would have to find a way to get out of the house or call 911 as soon as possible, but without alerting the woman.

I flipped on a light switch st we reached the kitchen…, except that it wasn’t a light switch.

It was a sort of fan, a loud fan… one that could muffle just about any normal sounds.

Bad move – get it off!, I said within myself.

As I reached back to get it back off, I almost lost grip on her.

Before I could get it off and a light on, she was slipping entirely from my grasp, and making a move, stepping away and turning toward me to attack.

Just as I was preparing to run for the knives and then out the door, – I was ready to spring – the real Hannah jolted awake in her bed, sweating everywhere, breathing heavily, goosebumps all over her body, terror-stricken…

It took the real me a while to realize fully that it was a dream – I had to check that no one was in my room… I felt immediately better knowing that I also had locked my specific door before bed.

I was filled with something akin to outrage at the unreliable individual, as I sorted out my feelings and my personal safety, figured out what was dream and what, if anything, was reality.

Even now, as I think back on it, I still find myself wanting to avoid picturing that woman’s face – its lack of expression was frightening, almost like possession…

And the reality of the situation, that someone’s inattention actually could put me in such a situation (because I go to bed reasonably early, and I don’t always get to check all the doors after everyone leaves at night), is still frightening, is still shaking me ever so slightly on the insides…

Even now…

Post-a-day 2019