The Gift of Ignorance is the Gift You Give to Others For Yourself

And so another day ends with no contact from anyone. I assume then that maybe tomorrow will perhaps be when my family and I might be possibly doing something sort of depending upon where people are located. As I said to Az, I'm just a series of sleep cycles until a decision is made.

I'm getting bad again. I can feel it and it's not an altogether unwelcome sensation. For a few months now, I have felt as though some part of my identity had been leeched out of me, like an image with its saturation index tweaked too high (you can tell what I've been doing for the last week) -- faded, less solid, less substantial, lacking. Now colour is returning, a density is building, and a secure heaviness is setting in. I have missed it. It is a weight, yes, but not a burden.

I enjoy truth. I was fired for it. I will be fired for it again and I will forever be deprived of opportunity and advancement because of this neurosis. I do not wish to lie or pretend or put any kind of effort into crafting a false image that will facilitate success and I do not want my life to be dependent on my ability to maintain such a facade. And, while I do believe that the intentional omission of information is the same as presenting false information, there are bits that I, too, leave out. From all things.

I want to share everything with everyone. I want to be known -- Christ, I want to be known -- but I am still too afraid. I have no problem sacrificing professional and informal relationships in the name of identity and truth and rebellion (That's what it means to fight the good fight, right?), but I hesitate to do the same with personal relationships. I don't want to rock that boat. I don't want my social deviancies, my abnormalities, or my disbelief in custom to jeopardize my friendships.

I don't mean that I'll put-out or act as a mule during our next visit to the states or adopt whatever humour is most prevalent amongst our group. No. I mean there are some aspects to my personality to which they will never -- ever -- be privy. Ever. Because it will freak them the hell out.

Oh, Megan. You tragic little thing.

Yes, but no. Seriously. And I would give an example of said deviances, but what I have written may be seen by those with whom I have a personal relationship. And then that would just totally defeat the purpose of this long, overly-dramatic explanation.

So that's that, then.

I want some goddamn presents.