Personal Journal

Untitled

I find myself unhappy today.
Depressed.
For the record – for the people who seem to still read this space (descriptions censored), I’m tired of saying it. I’m tired of feeling like I’m saying to people, “Gosh, I’m sad!” But this is my space, and I let you read for reasons I don’t truly know, and I’m making an entry for me.

Dunno where it comes from. That’s what makes me feel unprepared for it. Dunno what makes it go away, which is what makes it feel debilitating. I am physically tired, which seems to lead my depression nowadays. First I go through a few days where I’m just tired. Then I notice my soul is sad. Then I write about it or I don’t.

I don’t like being tired all the time. I know that a lot of my physical lifestyle is contributing to that right now. I am not sleeping great, nor long enough, nor am I eating well, and I haven’t exercised since the wound to my arm 3 weeks ago. The last point is one I need to work on first, then the other two fall into place. Jeez I want a nap like nobody’s business right this second, too.

I miss her a ton.
I have begun to notice that I don’t miss sharing things with her like I used to. I mean, that’s not an overt awareness. It’s something that has become ingrained into my way of thinking about the world, my life. That I don’t get to share things with her anymore. Now I simply send her a prayer of sorts and say, “See me? I still am in love with you, and I’m trying to be happy because I know you would want me to be.” There it is – that’s making me cry. I guess I need to write about things before I can cry anymore – I know it’s still necessary, it just comes less naturally now, and I have to meditate to get there and release it.

I’m still in love with you, and happy to be so.

A little part of me thinks maybe that’s a bit pathetic, but more than that, I know it’s just the way it is. I cannot imagine not being in love with her, but the aspects of being in love are going to evolve for me. I don’t know the language well enough to explain it. There will be a metamorphosis of being in love with Jean.

I look at her picture, and it makes me sick that I can’t visit her, talk to her, hold her, make love to her, and all those other things. It’s still a non-sequitur.

I still don’t care if I die. As long as I don’t do it to myself, it’s right and proper to die to be with her again.

I don’t have much to say about anything else anymore.


It is never too late to be what you might have been. -- George Eliot
Courage to start and willingness to keep everlasting at it are the requisites for success. -- Alonzo Newton Benn