i'm unable to interpret children as anything more or less than a burden. it's not really a revulsion on the basic level, although i'll admit to being afraid that my clumsy nature may accidentally harm them, especially when very young, but just the premise of responsibility that i find incomprehensible. i may actually be taking the responsibility too seriously; i'm essentially interpreting parenting as the death of the individual, and there may be some exaggeration in that. but, even admitting as much, i just can't make room for this in my life.

we live finite existences that are far too short. and, while i understand that so many of us can't find anything to do at all, i'm constantly struggling with the futility of completion, and the certainty of running out of time.

i would be absent in spirit and in fact; absent-minded and absent-bodied. and, i wouldn't blame anybody for resenting me, a priori. i'd just hope that they can understand, in the end.