In Soviet Russia, decisions make you.
I try not to be one to complain... but damn, things have gotten *interesting* recently.
I've finally found someone who loves me for me, and yet I still doubt myself and how I'm presented to the world. This nagging feelings... gnaws deep inside me. I'm still not happy (with myself).
Then there is the looming threat of Florida... don't even get me started on that. San Francisco and the Bay Area is my Mecca, my homeland, my Shangri-la, my paradise, my home. And suddenly I'm to be uprooted and moved back to the benign neglect that is Florida? I don't think so.
Half of me wants to go, but the other half... the other half... keeps me here, where the sun shines on me and warms me, where the stars come out at night and glow in the sky... Where I can gather with the local MENSA chapter and be with fellow eggheads.
At the moment I feel like my heart is being ripped apart, and no one is able to sew it back together.
I try not to be one to complain... but damn, things have gotten *interesting* recently.
I've finally found someone who loves me for me, and yet I still doubt myself and how I'm presented to the world. This nagging feelings... gnaws deep inside me. I'm still not happy (with myself).
Then there is the looming threat of Florida... don't even get me started on that. San Francisco and the Bay Area is my Mecca, my homeland, my Shangri-la, my paradise, my home. And suddenly I'm to be uprooted and moved back to the benign neglect that is Florida? I don't think so.
Half of me wants to go, but the other half... the other half... keeps me here, where the sun shines on me and warms me, where the stars come out at night and glow in the sky... Where I can gather with the local MENSA chapter and be with fellow eggheads.
At the moment I feel like my heart is being ripped apart, and no one is able to sew it back together.