Just me and the dog or the dog and I or however you want to play the grammar because it's not about the grammar until you try to explain it to someone and everything goes south because of the grammar and you can't decide on a definition of some meaningless word like "divest" and what it means or doesn't mean or how it can be interpreted.
Shit just goes south and the fear comes in that maybe that's one less friend at a time when you can't afford one less because you're not sure there are any at all.
But yah, in the rotunda up by Lincoln Road at 2 am and we were there for about 4 hours just sitting watching the rain and wondering when it would be safe to go home and that depends on a bunch of factors connected to someone else's insomnia or everyone else's insomnia so we're just sitting there and she's all anxious and fucked up because she knows something is off, in that way that dogs always know that something is off and maybe she was just fighting off her flight instinct too.
Fight or flight or just don't do a fucking thing at all. Don't make big decisions on 2 hours of sleep, especially when 48 or the previous 50 were all twisted.
But like I said we're just sitting there in the rotunda and I'm wondering if it's time to just cut and run, like leave my shit where it is and take what I can carry and take off. It's been a long time since thoughts like that came nosing about like hungry dogs and they're not welcome thoughts but they come and go of their own accord when shit gets weird, like someone's jammed the fucking door open and whatever comes in just comes in.
This is really kind of rambling and cryptic but if you get that I'm sitting in the fucking park at 2 am ducked down all low so the lights don't sweep me when the cops make the odd pass, so if you get that you know that things just aren't fucking good at all and that's that. If you get that part you've got all you need.
Something has to give, and soon. This isn't sustainable.