“Necessary feelings, only.” I’m feeling the white-hot feeling of self-respect! We are all convenient conflators across a rich range of emotionality. Love torn in two is not a whole love (a hole has been shorn into it…). Chanda was impregnated into the womb of my mind by Mama~
He who is triggered–in the soft, weak, emotional sense (really, the only kind)–loses. Minimum perturbations can shatter him. Frustration, itself, is the dark side of passion.
Yet–we are embodied souls! Love makes all of our best-argued arguments invalid (hear that, Soundness?). Roll your love up into an everlasting burrito of Love–for Chanda! A real rajma burrito for din…
Breaking through the hubristic debris, I back down away from certain situations. These include lonely, social app down scrolls during the wee hours of night. Screens are unconscious, symbolic imprints engendered via the “pure” semiotic encounter. (They don’t mean anything; not inherently!)
Curse–nay, bless–my moderate psychological sensibilities!
She was just an emissary of the eternal feminine. I have been doing my relative best! With the yearning for adventure on my heart–Zoom panoplies; “texy tecthics” (whatever they may be, sexy text-tonics…?).
Chromebook questions on that latter one, anyone? I am but a simple tutor, my liege! Ask away, m’ boi…
Psychological permissibility does not extend to the phenomenon of stress-gaming. What an odd-handed endeavor…that’s the soul? (No.) No need to bypass an adventure: not when my soul is so lit up with Spirit!
What to do with a COVID-locked trail of COVID following a probable non-offender? Let him go. Let him–as you would anyone a true, blue, hue-woe-manist would.