I'm Too Tired For This

I am in the middle of one of those times where nothing seems inspiring enough to write about.

Even as I write those words I know them to be untrue.
Only a couple of days ago I saw a woman get on my bus and a little girl excitedly ran to the window and reached through its open space to touch the hand of the woman in a jubilant final contact.
Additionally, I watched a little girl at Bijou, Cafe with s tiny dress, a tiny set of brown leggings and a tiny pair of shoes climb on and off of her bench.
She had a single band aid on the back of her left foot and I wanted to know why.

I've been seeing James again, slightly.
He kissed me.
I kissed back.
We went to the movies.
We went to dinner.
We talked.
We walked.
We kissed a little more and cuddled for awhile while talking of former mistakes and modern misgivings.

And yet I'm left with this torturous ambivalence.

Who even knows?

If and When the Daisies Blossom

Holding to a firm understanding of the fact that I still need to accept and learn from the trouble and tribulation that this time of my life has offered, I must say that I am quite relieved to know that I have a job...in the nominal sense.

I look forward to seeing how the job market changes in my favor now.

I'm finally crying

I feel alone.
I feel somewhat worthless.
I feel incredibly helpless.

I'm a burden in so many ways...even to myself.

Everything in me just wants to shut down, to crawl beneath the covers as it were.

I can't stand this horrible existential state.
I want to make decisions to change but it seems like so much is out of my control.

Fuck you, Karma.

Two Months of My Life

Thus ends the saga.
I finally pushed it too far...and now I've lost him.

The pain I am now feeling is different and the same all at the same time.
It's like I was broken a little and then I was set to rights only to break myself a little again.
Only now the bruise is deeper and the throb more persistent.

I hate what I've done.
I do not hate myself. I am smarter than that.

But I do hate how I have made this whole drama to play out in such obvious and predictable explosion. I should have known.
Had I only paid more attention to the overall than the now, now, now.
But alas, that's the fall of one who plays too hard at something only meant to be done in tandem with another.

Love cannot occur alone.
It is meant to be an exercise of unity.
Not always untrying of sanity.

I've fallen, fallen, and fallen again.

Only now will I be able to rise from the little puddle of Noah I let my self-serving sympathy melt my heart into forming.

This is the beginning of something uncomfortable in its newness but necessary in its existence.

I hate heartache.
I genuinely hate it.

It's a hungry pain that makes me sick.
And to think my own actions precipitated this dull pressure.

I'm disgusted with the whole thing.