Afraid, melancholic, nostalgic, shrinking - yet hopeful to change an all-too-familiar course of events that one has been through enough times to be sick and tired of it.
Deeply missing a closeness that only comes with a certain kind of relationship and leaves you feeling isolated in a way that seems to magnify the loneliness within to universal proportions.
No no no, this is the same old streets talk. It's no good. It goes nowhere purposeful. Why does one only have to look at this with a tinge of loss? What other emotions can one channel towards a better use? I have the answers, all of them or at least enough of them in theory. Unable to put them to action. Is this what defines the toughies from the weaklings? There's another hit then; knowing which label one belongs to. Goddamn!
Time, time, time to change. This must stop. The bleeding can't consume me, can't take me down each time.
What are the mechanics of recovering from this unwelcome but inevitable appendage of our personal lives today?
I'm better and I'm worse. I never want to kill the world. But I'm tired of the feeling that I should deserve that denouement myself, it doesn't help in putting one's mind to better attendances.
How are we today? Now let's see...
We're feeling doleful at sea, but with a striving resistance that bears promise to steer clear of old ports, upon which one wishes to make no further calls.
Writing this has been somewhat cathartic, reduced the weight of the pumping organ below the left shoulder. We follow its calls like we do the stars in the night and yet find ourselves lost sometimes. Maybe it has not been cultivated or curated carefully enough to be of fully developed faculties that can demand unflinching trust in its judgment. There's a course correction.
Thank you. How did you know to ask?
