Time to take the red pill or the blue pill, Mr Anderson.
(Talking of that, did you see Lawrence Fishburne's daughter is going into porn?)
I guess the choice is always there in any moment, isn't it? Is it really a choice? Do we ever really manage to actually freely choose our lives and our paths? I sometimes think so, but there are times when I'm really not so sure.
But right now, I feel like Grace has offered me the (illusion of) choice of which pill to swallow. A nice, safe and conventional life, cared for by my sweet and wonderful coworker, or liberation? It feels very much like if I want to make that lesser choice, the option open would be a good one. I could easily fall head over heels for this guy. Not sure I haven't already, to be perfectly honest. The parasite sees an opportunity to stay safe, to not have to take responsibility, or to have to go through the pains of growing.
But the 'greater' I has chosen the red pill, and I know it. Despite what this ordinary 'I' wants, the one sitting here writing, feeling the need for consolation and sex and an easy way out, the red pill was swallowed even many lifetimes ago, perhaps. It's not a choice I can really make.
No, I didn't make him pull the car over and do me in the parking lot, but it just felt so fucking nice, being with him last night.
Probably in 6 months he would bore the piss out of me. I have to tell myself that. He is fairly ordinary, not particularly good looking, a little over weight, very laid back and easy going, nothing overtly 'spiritual' about the guy except his huge heart.
Everything that husband wasn't. Polar opposites in many ways.
And I am finding that SO unbelievably sexy.
I feel like I am a fucking Cyclops, given by the Gods only the view of my own future that I least want to see.
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