I'm almost certain.

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I sense her eyes upon me, if through my blog.  Who?  Who else.  Well, there are options.  The woman who has been watching me since I was actually small.

I feel some of what she feels.  Memories, thoughts, worries.  They... never stop worrying.  They aren't always nice, pleasant, kind.  That's... not their job.  Perhaps, more when we were younger.  To help when we hurt?  But later in life, a push or shove or a hug could all be seen as a part of their jobs.

Her teeth.  At one time, I remember my mother's teeth being like that.  I always thought women have strange teeth formations.  I did then, I do now.  Though, as they age, things... change.  They still have strange teeth.  It's their diminutive size, which changes the structure?  In part.

Oh, and this?  People think this, people think that.  Things are just what they are.  I wouldn't read too much into pop, or even "professional" psychology.  But there... is a real psychology, a true study and understanding of the mind.  Most with licenses shouldn't have licenses.  And those who can help, often, are so far from being licensed it's a joke.  And a good thing.  I think the professionalization of empathy and conversational therapy has guaranteed it won't work.  Find family, friends, a woman, a good minister... speak with these folks, test the water.  Leave the "professionals" alone, as you would a prostitute, blood-letter, or necromancer.  They are false, at best.

Yeah.  Me?  Just... thinking.  I understand some of those things, though for "no known reason".  *rictus grins*  Are we having fun yet?  I just don't worry.  Anymore.

I best see if I can get to the post.  Packages are in?  Maybe.  Good evening and goodnight.