An unevented turn of expects

I'll be damned, it's almost like we're on a normal update schedule here.

I wish we were doing with this page. For the past half year KC has been determined to soar in his posts to the ethereal heights in his own muddy depths of dispair. I, on the other hand, have dragged it through the mundane days of my life. In all honestly, we're both faced with the same problem. We just deal with it in different ways. I know KC is worried about my 'gentrification', and rightly so. I am worried about him too. I unintentionally realised some time ago that KC doesn't realise he is the greatest player in his own life. It's not that he doesn't think he's the greatest player in his own life - far from it. It's just that he (and, for a long time, both of us) was always waiting for some force, like wind of the gods, to intervene and make stuff happen. Like so many others, he believes he's chosen and that it's a matter of time before the fates reveal it to the world.

He right; and he's wrong. He is chosen. He's chosen by himself (and by me). The hand of fate he's waiting for is nothing but his own.

I checked myself into the emergency room at 3am on Monday morning. I've never wanted so much to get out of my own head.

The pain was splitting, isolated in the left side, and the cause completely unknown. I'd done nothing, ate no food, drank no alcohol. The blood tests showed nothing but that I was normal. The first injection did nothing. I wanted to sleep, or escape, and I could have neither. An IV drip, a second, different injection, and about 30 later, the pain drifted away and so did I. I checked myself out just before 6am.

Exhausted, I didn't go to work that day. I slept, then did nothing in the afternoon. I watched the Last King of Scotland.

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