Everyone Keeps Telling Me To Sell My House. I Won’t. No Matter What Happens. I Don’t Want To Move.

I don’t know what feelings it would stir in Will. I have never met him.

But if someone saw a younger version of themselves, would they recognize it as themselves..or as someone else entirely?

It's very weird, having a patient with the same face as my Will.

I will get overstimulated.

My skin starts to itch, and I feel restless. I become uneasy, and sometimes I just freeze.

If it’s daily, mundane stuff, I can usually calm myself down. But if it involves something fundamental in my routine or anything crucial, I tend to have panic attacks.

..I am missing somebody I’ve never met and a feeling I’ve never felt. Is that possible, Dr. Lecter ?

I feel irrational yearning somewhere deep inside me, all the while being surrounded by everything I could possibly ask for.

I feel a hunger I can’t articulate, and I can’t pinpoint if I am simply going mad or if I am missing some sort of intangible warning.

New feelings often occur, even as we gain experience. Variations on what was once familiar. Desire that ebbs and flows with the change in our lives.

A yearning for another's presence is not uncommon. While you have all of your needs met, you may feel you are lacking a companion.

Tell me. To what other experience can you compare your newfound infatuation?

If I didn't know better, I would say it's as if you are in love.

Thought you’d be interested in this, stea. You think Keats was talking about Polaris? Can’t say I’m well versed on the subject. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44468/bright-star-would-i-were-stedfast-as-thou-art

— Nigel

Fomalhaut was the first star that came to mind. People call it the lonely one, and that feels closer to what Keats was describing—‘not in lone splendour hung aloft the night’—watching in silence like some sleepless, distant observer. Polaris is constant, sure, but Fomalhaut is solitary. It sits far apart from the other bright stars in the sky. Easy to notice. Easy to feel something about.

It makes sense to me, logistically too. Fomalhaut is visible from Earth without much effort. But more than that, it carries the weight of solitude, of being out there and unmistakably alone.

I don’t think he wanted to be the star. I think he recognized something of himself in it. When we admire things people, stars, it’s often because they mirror something we’re missing or trying to understand. Maybe he wasn’t longing for distance, but for connection. To feel less alone by seeing that loneliness reflected back.

And even if they’re separated by lifetimes of space, the star and the observer exist in that moment together. No one else might understand that connection, perhaps not even the two of them, but it’s there nonetheless.

thoughts on the planet ceres?

A dwarf planet trapped in the asteroid belt. Too small to be a proper planet, too large to be just another rock. Suspended between definitions, never quite one thing or the other. It holds more water than any world in the inner solar system apart from Earth, but no one really talks about that. No one really talks about Ceres at all.

It was the first asteroid ever discovered. They thought it was a planet at first. It lost that title when they found others like it, but for a while, it was something more. Something significant.

I think that’s a shame.

Hello, Adam. I was wondering if you have a favorite flower or plant or a favorite animal?

-Duncan.

Good evening Duncan!.

I do have a favorite animal.

Raccoons. Definitely raccoons. They’re highly intelligent, their problem-solving skills are impressive, and they have these incredibly dexterous little hands. Did you know that they can remember solutions to tasks for years? And they wash their food before eating it, which is both practical and oddly endearing. I often go to watch a family of raccoons at a park near me. They bring me joy.

As for plants, I think carnivorous plants are fascinating. They literally evolved to defy the usual order of things—plants aren’t supposed to consume animals, and yet, here they are. The Venus flytrap, for example, counts the number of times its trigger hairs are touched before closing, like it’s verifying the presence of prey. That kind of adaptation is remarkable. If find that they have a philosophical aspect to them.

I do actually own two!.

A ‘Meade Polaris 70mm Refractor‘ that my father previously owned and a ‘Celestron NexStar 8SE’ that I bought myself.

Hello, Adam. I was wondering if you have a favorite flower or plant or a favorite animal?

-Duncan.

Good evening Duncan!.

I do have a favorite animal.

Raccoons. Definitely raccoons. They’re highly intelligent, their problem-solving skills are impressive, and they have these incredibly dexterous little hands. Did you know that they can remember solutions to tasks for years? And they wash their food before eating it, which is both practical and oddly endearing. I often go to watch a family of raccoons at a park near me. They bring me joy.

As for plants, I think carnivorous plants are fascinating. They literally evolved to defy the usual order of things—plants aren’t supposed to consume animals, and yet, here they are. The Venus flytrap, for example, counts the number of times its trigger hairs are touched before closing, like it’s verifying the presence of prey. That kind of adaptation is remarkable. If find that they have a philosophical aspect to them.

Do you like theater? If so, what are your favorite plays and/or musicals?

I don’t dislike theater, but I struggle with the social environment around it.

It’s loud. It’s crowded. People clap too much. But I do like the mechanics of it the structure, the rhythm, the way a story has to rely on timing and restraint. I like plays that don’t talk down to their audience.

Copenhagen is a good one,it’s about physics and ethics. The Effect by Lucy Prebble was interesting too, mostly because it plays with psychology and perception in a way that felt grounded. Musicals are harder. Most are emotionally overstimulating, but I think Hadestown had merit. I like mythology. And I appreciate when something ancient gets recontextualized in a modern structure. That’s how understanding evolves.

Andromeda Galaxy 2.500.000 light years away

During my session with Dr. Lecter today, he spoke about the stars. He told me that the light we see in the night sky is ancient—that some of the stars that appear brightest to us have already died, their final light still traveling across time and distance. He said it is a reminder that what we perceive is not always what is present, and that some things linger even after they are gone.

He also referenced the Greeks, how they believed the constellations were once people and creatures, lifted into the sky as stories, as if memory alone could make them eternal. He asked me if I thought the universe remembers us, if our presence leaves an impression in the fabric of space-time, or if we simply vanish.

I told him that memory does not alter physics, and that once something is gone, it is gone.

After that he just smiled at me.

Someone told me today that ‘the stars have aligned.’ I checked. They have not. Stellar positions do not change in response to human events