Questions at night.

...which brought back (filthy lie, you were already there) so many things.

Once more, that imperative question of "how have you been?" It would be tremendously dishonest to say that's all there is in me, but I always acknowledged it.

Always.

And to your face.

"How have you been?" is a question that begs (demands inside me) an answer. I think there is a strong base for that question to feel imperative, given the circumstances of our parting, which I cannot explain. I did not cause it to happen, at least I can say I didn't sever that line.


That question is very likely to be a thorn on my side until the day I die, bleeding.

But let's not be dramatic, for that day is still far away.

It is curious how we were talking about abti-psychiatry. I see a second article from one of my favourite writers on Fb. It should not be difficult, most content creators (including yours truly) content themselves with a stupid picture.

It is on addiction and relationships. I cannot but subscribe to the views expressed by the source, but the language was so generalised that it might well be taken as meaning anyone in love is an addict.

I am not so sure. Though I expect it holds true for those trapped in an abusive relationship to which they keep returning, the risk is for it to be taken as an absolute truth, one that holds against all contingencies.

"How does it apply to me?", I tend to ask myself. I get up and go to my mirror:

-Is it pathological that I found myself attracted after such a deep connection, a genuine me-you? I think not.
Drapetomania was seriously considered as a mental illness. One that needed treatment.
-The need to connect with others, and not wanting to be alone is also taken out of context. A lone primate is a dead one. Dunbar's number tells it like it is, without psychobabble.

Psychobabble is a strong term. I frankly lost my patience. There are a number of paradigms for sale in the market of ideas, I will pick mine on tried and tested, thank you very much.

I have already witnessed the argumental and logical phallacy disguised as psych talk to enforce deeply held prejudice.

I'll just live and hope to meet my
friend. One that I love from the marrow in my bones.

Love is terrifying. The first link I got from the troll says so. I, however, do not accept this because an. authority comes and says so. I know that terror of knowing "this is
it, kid. You're gambling with the rest of your life."

And I know it is. I knew that depth on holding my daughters for the first time.

I know.

I only hope she doesn't think she's doing me a favour by staying away.