Renegade Planets

Dear J-

Years and years and years: I understand the reasoning of obsession and fixation, of the line between wondering and too far. There’s only so much you should be privy to and no more, I suppose, but you start to push a little and the next thing you know you’ve moved on to active-obsession mode. My life wouldn’t be complete without … I don’t know how I lived this long before … Now that I have … and so on and so forth. We’ve been there before, haven’t we? It usually takes getting caught and swearing to never do it again before … well … doing it again. And it seems to start off innocently enough, you think that it’s just one thing but before you know it you have a load to tote to the thrift store. Yikes.

It’s hard to accept silence as an answer: did they hear you, are they just formulating a response, do you not choose to engage in this verbal foxtrot? If your brain is wired to obsess over things and possessions then does it also conflate people to the same level? Acquiring knowledge is a form of acquisition, after all, and just like the Ferengi sometimes you have to know a little more. Or a lot more. As much more as possible, right? Enough is good. More is better. So when you ask and nothing happens is that enough? Do you keep pressing? Do you back off and let things take their course? Is it going with the flow or just accepting the way things must be?

Life is like this: no commotion, no fuss, no ripples in the water, no lumps in the batter, no hairs down the drain, no no no none nothing doing, alls-well-that-ends-well and sign out and have a nice day, sorry for your time. Thanks. Or is it? I know there’s a part of me that wants to replace everything we gave away when we moved here, a part that I need to struggle with given that we don’t have enough room for that anyway. And another part of me that feels like claiming is staked once we start to have packages arrive at the door and stuff piling up in the corners, even when I know we don’t need/don’t need to have that much. I wonder if I seek conflict as a form of retrograde therapy.



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