"I think maybe love is about choosing who I want to witness me, who I know watches me in the way I want to be watched". ~Elseship, Tree Abraham

A weekend spent with Bug was a bit of slap upside my head. I don't want to dwell, don't want to wawa, don't want more time on any kinda shitty; I am trying every day to be PRESENT and putting out goodness/healthy. When I look backwards, it is to salvage what can be salvaged.

Power, I believe, is not a thing you HAVE, it's always present and fluid and we merely direct it for good or ill. Or fail to direct it at all (sheeple syndrome).

Bug has her own beliefs. She believes that my power/person has been taken as granted / siphoned. That I have been diminished by evilasses, as the heroine often is in plotlines, before a resurgent deadly comeback. That evil caused me harm, visible to her in the half my weight, half the house, half or less as many words (often dead silent). That something(s) need more than just kicked to the curb. She can't quite articlate all that, but she can by adding these drawings. There are the "kill me, I dare you" types, my fave. And 

some folks deserve
dismemberment

In my lately Irish goodbyes, I dis-member-ed myself. Maybe it is time to reverse blink. Now that I have settled in what looks like a life cut to the size of her ("closests"), the policy going forward: membership limited (!) + dismemberment for cause ☠️! signs (like the "Posted" signs she has seen). 

Fewer candles, more torches.

She does not yet understand the delicate balance of defiance (life supportive) versus bitterness (dis ease). But she is also not entirely wrong.

"Don’t Let ‘Em (Get Inside Of Your Head)" - Julian Taylor ft Jim James