They Say He Was a Ship’s Engineer

There’s certainly a part of me that desires to wail.

But it would be premature.  And pointless and put me on the backfoot for no reason other than it’s a bad habit to of mine to suffer needlessly and I won’t do it.  He’s in enough pain for himself and I am not going to selfishly contribute to that by demanding he be other than he is.  Which is seeking and searching and centering and figuring things out.

And maybe he’s figuring that the place he is is not a fair place for me to be.  And maybe I’ll figure out that his seeking and searching and figuring isn’t enough or the fascination was based on something intangible and transitory.  But we have to say that to one another and hear it from one another’s lips and until then, my despair is full of shit.

Instead, I can be selfish another way.  Shopping, self-care, self-improvement, diet leaning into this diet, reading, writing, work, all manner of mental distractions.

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