Waiting, or not

Can't remember a time when my timeline matched everyone else's; my child and I are in sync: we don't procrastinate on priorities. Even without constant updates, it seems I'm regularly ahead of what others take time with, or I'm moving things along when no one else seems to be (except for occasionally not posting 'on time' when other things are being attended to). This is all only perception; my mind doesn't seem to stop.

"Massive Action" is part of a quote by a friend that is neither new nor old. I act like I write, in very long sprints, rarely if ever comfortable resting. There's no time for rest at an age when most are beginning to wind down, there's no stopping now. There are no options, only to keep moving forward.

Everything is so fragile, and timely. It's raining out. Pouring. Glad to be inside, though not for long. Someone is still uncomfortable, much more so than I. I feel them almost as much as if it were me, sometimes as much: the reason stopping or resting is not an option. Someone cannot speak for themselves. Someone cannot say what they really mean. It isn't safe to do so. This is more common than most are aware or think about.

The right words at the right time; the right information at the right moment can mean life or death, or at best an entirely different outcome, which can go in either direction. Uncertainty is only a given, what causes fear is moment to moment. Some claim it's all from within; having seen so much, even that theory remains in question. Those who have not experienced or remember what happens in childhood for many can only comment on popular thought. What's hidden is the fabric of the landscape, like the soil that holds the trees. Never mind the forest; that's just the surface. Seems only the unconscious knows the surface isn't all there is, most of the time.