A crooked lifepath
Today I went through a bunch of papers looking for handwriting samples from a friend who’s going to federal prison and needs to cancel their car insurance (the agency’s office is closed on the weekends, so I wanted to do their parents a favour and forge a letter to cancel the policy). Well, whilst digging through my papers and not finding anything with their full signature on it—I actually did find some later on—I found Giovanni’s old correspondences. Some of them. From an old lawyer and his lovely wife…
And he immediately manifested, and took over the body, and carefully cut the letters and envelopes smaller, and affixed them into the bullet journal with washi tape. “I can’t forget 
…” It had been years since he’s had any contact with them, but he still cares about everyone so strongly. “I wonder if they’re still living in Los Angeles? I hope they’re fine…” When they’d found out his age, the first time they met, they exclaimed “You’re a baby!”
I was angry at him. Not for taking over the body… I don’t really care about it, it’s not mine… But, for having fun forging the signatures I was looking for. “Why are you enjoying this? This doesn’t have anything to do with you! It’s an inconvenience…” “Yeah, but. If you can’t do anything about it and have to do it, why not try to make it fun?” …He did a really good job at forging that person’s signatures. Went ahead and told their parents the car insurance was taken care of, and that he set up a Securus account and added their phone numbers to it. So they wouldn’t have to worry about missed calls from their kid… He’s always, always like that. Looking out for the vulnerable and “embracing the suck”.
I worry that my kind of life will disorient him. If I keep going, he’ll lose touch with all the things he survived so tenaciously for. If I have to cut my studies on shamanism short for him I’ll do it. Someone like me, with no attachment to life, compared to someone like him, who actually cares about the people around him…