mixed slices

not alone, always in a crowd, well, almost alway, and yet, all alone...

working as the glue no one wants around to hold together the broken pieces of a disfunctional family, it's a thankless job, but someone's gotta do it, or so the story goes...

there must be better ways to "make a living"...

meanwhile, all i ever wanted was the one... true love... family... forgives everything... true love... forever... or it it just the illusion of never being alone... illusion or not, it is real when it is shared, committed, said and done, and i said it and did it and still do... i remain true to my word, my promises, my love... and the only one... so were they all liars or thieves or just frail imperfect humans excused by their god or some delusional excuse for shirking responsibility?...

what's the difference...

that is, what is the point of the most important writing ever if no one ever read it?... so the story continues (to be written), day after day, carved from whole cloth, created from the (e)thereal imagination between the lines... and if only for my amusement, so be it...

here and there, home and away, work and play, mixed slices...

new phone?