Somewhere I heard once that our constituent particles are much, much smaller than the gaps between them. If you could shrink down to a very, very small size, you would see the atoms of solid objects spread out with nothing between them except invisible forces. If you saw a hand pressed against a wooden table top at that scale, you would see loosely grouped atoms of the hand and loosely grouped atoms of the wood that could easily pass right through each other without colliding. It's not the atoms that stop the surface of the hand at the surface of the table, it's the forces between the atoms. Without those forces, or so I've heard, the atoms would just drift apart and become undifferentiated. So, the force keeps me in and keeps everything else out. It's a strange force. I call it identity, though that's not what scientists call it.
When he woke up and stumbled from the bedroom, Paul found that Lisa had left him a note. It read as follows.
Paul,
It's not that I don't recognize your love and concern. I do. I both understand the value and feel the pleasure of being the object of another's affection. I hope you can understand, however, my need to move unfettered through, at the very least, the limited scope of my own domain. If I cannot feel free in the sanctuary of my own mind, what freedom can I ever have? Embrace me, therefore, with your affection, but do not shackle it to my ankles and wrists. I'm not offended if you tap me on the shoulder with your concern, just don't thrust it between my shoulder blades. I can see your point of view without letting it blind my eyes. I can hear your opinion without letting it drown out my own voice. I am asking you to erect your machinations elsewhere. I like to walk unmolested across the craggy landscape of my own soul. I do not want warning signs and safety rails around the deep cavern of my despair. Sometimes, you see, I like to leap over the edge. Sometimes I like to tumble, battered and bruised, into those dark depths. Can you understand this? Do you understand the need to fall in and scramble, bleeding and exhausted, back out? Do you understand that I cannot abide walls to keep me out of my own damned garden? It's my sadness, my despair, and I must master it. Please understand this thing. You need not worry that, if you falter in your tireless vigil, I will slip secretly away beyond all salvation. I make you this promise: If there comes a day when I cannot swim in the deep end of my own ocean you will know it, because I will pull the plug and empty it. If there ever comes a day that I cannot be master here in the house of my own mind you will know it, because I will burn the whole damned thing down.
Lisa
He wasn't sure how to take it. "I just suggested that she check her tire pressure," he thought.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
