Wheel

I'm happy. How odd?

It might be that I'm hopeful my life won't be a waste.
It might be the organization of my time, keeping the existential wizard away,
It might be my hobby of germinating seeds.

I don't know, something is working, and for once, it's not the chemicals of exercise or the sultry seductress of booze.

I keep having dreams of swimming, and dreams where I'm a fitness instructor, teaching people to stretch their psoas. -these dreams can get a little graphic.

As I proceed with the manufacturing academy, it is becoming clear that I'm setting myself up for failure. I don't actually want to be part of a machine. When I see myself in manufacturing, I see someone who feels safe, secure, has a place in society and who is seemingly self sufficient. But all those things are illusions.

In reality, I'm the deviant, and there is no safety,

We are all part of a wheel. Everyone working together.

Oh god, my stomach hurts.