between a rock and another rock

I have a chance to leave my house, but it will be to see a band. I was invited by someone I should not spend time with outside of family functions. She's the mother of my nieces. Why does this happen?

This should not have happened. No, it did not happen. Nothing happened. Nothing will. For as long as I have any handle on the situation I will ensure that nothing happens. Nothing always happens. That's my specialty. I had a joke based upon this today.

"Your farts smell like nothing when you're nobody."

That is hardly a victory. It is an un-win. It is not a win, and neither is it a loss. It occupies the third category, which is that of the un-win. The win precluded me. I cannot win, nor can I lose because I have no legitimacy to compete. I am not there. I was always missing from the picture.

I unraveled my friendships just to see how they were particularly coiled. I was unable to reconstitute them. I loosed trust in the process of the unraveling.

Why do I think of lost opportunities? My relationship unraveling is a consequence of not wanting to lose an opportunity. A lot of good this does me.

Once again I will let an opportunity dissipate. The window will close. It should. It wasn't there. Opportunities don't exist. Moments present themselves and you either choose to act or avoid acting upon some presumption that for you is ripe in this moment. A lot of good that will do you. A lot of damn good that will do.

The moment will pass as all moments should. I cannot wish them into existence. I cannot wish them away. They merely exist. Here, I stand with no one. I am non-coincident to myself. Existence pushes something aside. I have no desire to push back. I have no desire. I have no will. I have no motivation. I am without a narrative or an identity that persuades me to act upon it let alone share it.

But I have a dream to be a cloud someday. I am mostly water, so I am mostly a cloud with some other mineral and molecular material holding it to the ground in some semblance of a person. I want to be a cloud. Sooner or later this personage, this historical, nagging inertia of an identity will lose its selfish battle for self-identity. Then, then my watery remainder will rise into the sky.

To want to be a cloud is a laughable offense.