Sometimes I think of people as being an outer shell of something. Like one of those matryoshka dolls, or when I was little and my mom would wrap my smallest gifts in multiple boxes and you are really just a collection of boxes. The idea that with each experience you undo a layer, open a box, unpeel something of yourself. And as you do you are getting closer and closer to perfection, to your utmost insides. The closer you get to the inside, the closer you get to your "perfect." It may not be everyone's perfect, because no one is perfect. And maybe this stems from everyones "prefect" being different because everyone inside box, inside doll is different. I don't know, reading back through it, maybe it makes no sense, but maybe it makes all the sense in the world.
I am ready for winter. I bought rain boots that I am excited for, and in order to wear them properly I am going to need some rain. I am more than enjoying the cold, although this year seems to be hitting my body harder than usual. This cough just wont let up. Miles jokes that it's whooping cough because of the odd noise it makes. I would laugh, but laughing makes me cough.
Four possible jobs. One easy. Two familiar. One helpful. Decisions decisions. Money will be welcomed with open arms.
This post is all over the place. Like most. Comforting and at ease. Midnight messages make me melt.
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