and back.

back to idealization... this time it's shifted a bit, but conforms to the same pattern (thankfully). the cycle plagues me once again, what may seem mysterious and confusing to you is so much moreso to me. tenfold maybe.

even when the scouts return from the front and the news favors the cause it's still in the back of my mind.

it's not easy to let go of ingrained notions so comforting and condicive to the proverbial status quo... i barely cling to reasonable semblances of stability as it is... it's not rocking the boat, it's forcing yourself over the gunwhale.

i'm not saying i don't long for the day when my touch and sight are the same, but buildup is not what i want either. it's so easy to just ramrod the musketball of future events into the barrel of time and let it sit at the ready for when the time is upon me, but without the emotional wadding to safely and snugly pack it all in, the ball would just fall away and be useless and lost. the wadding is the worry and idealization that allows the hope to remain running alongside, carrying the powderhorn. a necessary annoyance, the entire cyclical fiasco once again rears its gnarled tentacles and engulfs my entire focus, which sometimes is a welcome respite from the wadded-up idealized event.

the entire strange situation puts me in this unique position to enjoy all of these thoughts without realistic repurcussions. thus far, my mind functions satisfactorily on theory alone. in my mind i exist only in the days which predate the use of percussion caps.

every night i reload the muzzle, and every morning i awaken to find it was spent in my dreams.