On September 9, I posted something called, There are Three of Me. That was less than two months ago. It seems like a thousand years.
I am having a difficult day. Anxiety is very high. Saying I am not myself would be very true. It may also be very false.
For a moment, just a brief moment, I experienced an odd thing. I felt two distinct mes. It was not disturbing. There is one of me that is dying. In some ways it clings to life. In some ways, it is tired of its suffering and wants to go. There is another part of me that is not him.
The distinction is was very clear at the time. There are two. I'm fishing around trying to find the one that will last. I can touch it a little if I am very present in the now. To that, I have one thing to say.
Mentors...FUCKING mentors. I hate it when they are right.