Fight or Flight- These are the base instincts of us all. Animals, we lie to ourselves most of us. The great manipulator of all the split decisions we make. It may stem from other things and events, but in the end, fear is the decider. Fear of showing oneself truly, of being judged, seems to be a main theme... Fear of feeling...Fear of touch... Fear of truth... Fear of weakness, shown. Everyone I talk to is the same at the root of it.
I enjoy fight myself, though I'm not opposed to strategic retreat.

I have felt /pity/. I was sure I'd removed this weak emotion with the rest. It's a useless on in reality. How disappointing to find it lurks. What else has hidden there, in the depths, far from my reaching dagger tip.
A stoic mask hides such a quick temper. Amusing for a moment as I do enjoy a good argument. I will resist poking that one for a while.

Casting judgement, when you are just as broken as the rest, is a delusion you create to make yourself feel /more/. I suppose it's better than being empty... There are many of those as well.

**A large red ink blot mars the page here- as if the author rested the quill on the parchment as they thought**

A lot happens in a turn sometimes and others... nothing.
I have shared a small bit of trust, as well. We will see where that goes. There may be hidden motivations I do not see. I do think he hides behind flowery words and flamboyant actions, but we all hide behind something- our proverbial 'Mother's skirt' I suppose.

My master is conspicuously absent again. I am long past the time I should call him such... I should not feel surprise or disappointment. One day I will stop watching the road- not this day. He will, in all probability, be displeased with my new associations, but at least on that matter I have taken his right to say away.



**A carefully folded origami kitten, bright copper coins for eyes, is folded into the pages here.**