i sometimes think i might disappear, but like in a fantasy of dying, of still being here. where would i go if i disappeared. i imagine being myself but disembodied. maybe i wouldn't be myself without my body. maybe i would simply disperse in the atmosphere. it seems i have real trouble communicating directly. i often feel inept. bumbling over my words. it's probably a continuation of how i felt at school sitting at my desk, wanting to be somewhere else, not knowing where, it wasn't home, just somewhere. i learned how to read before i learned how to talk. so writing felt, feels more natural. but even in writing i feel painfully awkward or blank often. often i am empty of words, and then i'll start writing from that emptiness. i wonder why i didn't feel i belong here. i didn't feel i belonged in my own family. something i marvel at with mister. it seems he always feels he belongs here, and if someone doesn't acknowledge him or has an antipathy to him, he's ok, he still feels himself. and mostly he's acknowledge with love and affection. it's easier for dogs, it's a good thing, because they don't have as much time as we, though their life is relatively as long as ours. they don't see the rest of ours, so our lives are in proportion.