Restraining the words

I keep wanting to write things like this is Facebook, as I used to write a lot on Facebook. I liked having an audience and people who might respond. But I can't do that anymore. 

I don't really know what I'm supposed to do at the moment. I'm sitting in my dad's apartment, still lamenting that this is the way it has ended for them. I'm glad to not be in Charlottesville and do believe it may be time for me to think of something different to do. 

My dad is asleep. He gets tired easily. He dislikes the couch on which he's sitting. My mother is not sleeping, but laying down. I like to spend time with them, though I would also like to be doing something to live my life.

I live my life through writing, including these moments I'm taking to document something down for a minute. I spent a lot of my time alone because I don't like being pulled out of thought. I'm a different sort of person from the rest of my family, and always have been. 

I would change who I am if I could. Perhaps I can in some ways. I may be a nicer person than I was 21 years ago. Maybe not. I have no idea who I am times. 

But I left Facebook for principled reasons even if I can't seem to articulate them at all times. 

I am trying to be calm in a storm. 

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