Straws

Storm Trooper guy seems to be Han Solo under the helmet. Here he is taking a preliminary bath, as he was caked with mud. Right now, he's in the dishwasher.




D got a poster up. I think it works.

Considering what, in an ideal world that I controlled, I would want. And I keep coming up with, nothing. To be left alone, as far as the genetic kin are concerned. Maybe if I could rewind time and make them get to know me... but even then, only an genuine response would be satisfying, for good or ill. If I can't be loved, or hated, for who I really am, I'd prefer to be let be. I'm not one for wishing. Real love beats any fantasy. Honest friends leave dreams fading into wisps in the night. A whole life, myself as best I can be today, with clear eyes and plain truth, awake and kind. I can't change them, no one can make anyone do anything, and resting one's entire happiness in anyone else's hands, dependent on their behaviour, assures resentment and disappointment. I can't be that for anyone, no one can be that for me.

D and I share our happiness, we have bendy straws.