Just sitting there, mouth flexing ever so slightly, as I deliberate over what to say next. Not for a lack of words, mind you; or things to talk about, either. It's not that I hate you. It's just that...I don't know how to communicate.
Words tumble out of my mouth, and are swallowed, by the poignant silence.
It sucks.
My training regime's working out pretty well; 1.5 hours on pistol, 1.5 hours on rifle. I should probably reach Safra earlier though, to maximize training time.
It feels quite good, to relive being a pistoler, without the pressure of having to perform; as of yet anyway. Without this pressure, I feel released to relearn what I have to, and perhaps to overcome the block I faced last time. I'll have to re-psycho myself pretty soon, if I'm to perform under competition conditions.
Small steps bring me forward on this great journey. And as of now, I'm astride these 2 wonderfully parallel paths. Will they diverge?
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