I don't seem to have come far in the six months or so that I've been posting. Still, always, the same questions. (And the accompanying itch to figure something out, however small.) It's a little discouraging to read back and see that what I wrote today is almost exactly the same thing I said first. Everywhere you go, there you are.

I wish I still felt that confidence in myself. Things have not been great. No amount of conscious philosophizing about mind, body, and self-perception will change me. Change sneaks in undercover, behind the veil of the present, and lodges itself in my ideas about the past and my role in it. I like to think that I am not the person I used to be, but when I read what I wrote years ago it's always a shock how similar I am to that person who is so obviously not the me reading, but who I will never meet face to face.