Strike the right tone

Not overjoyed. Not under a storm cloud. Somewhere on the broad continuum between.

More lively than stasis. Less agitated than…okay, yes. Less agitated than normal.

A bit sore about the gills, to mash up my metaphors.

Hungry. As I almost always am. For a food I’ve not yet fathomed how to eat.

Mr. Carle’s caterpillar never to turn into a butterfly [spoiler alert].

Tiburón, constantly swimming, and growing restless of it.

“Just-” Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.

I was born too discomfited, too disdainful of the status quo, too infinitely hopeful of some imagined infinitesimal ‘better,’ to get along smoothly on planet earth. And I am a slow learner.

So I am still yearning. LEARNING.

Sometimes my little mood ring heart glows sad: wondering if I’ll ever be any different; wondering if it’s all been wasted effort; wondering if I’m really a dreamer; and are the stars just dim sham night lights?

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