It is such a lonely thing I feel in this Place with my three cats.
I have done it to myself.
The really galling part Today – is how it all repeats itself in the most Minute detail. How I even play with the cat in the same way with the Same music. There is nothing new under the sun And I would still love you if you came within a yard of me.
Don't I love everyone? Sometimes I go so stir crazy Of course. It surprised me when karen said I was strong. I wouldn't have labled myself as such, but I recognized that I could be. I'm far away from strong. That would be more apt.
I remembered giving Mark my diary and having him love them. There are glimmers.
That's how I know I runs the show.
I used to be content reading the paper listening to WHQR drinking coffee or tea sitting in my yard. Now that sort of thing is as foreign as euros. What has become of me and my true north? I don't have any discipline. Goals. Gravitas. It's all robbie the robot floundering around like a freak show. Arghhhhhhh.
Mark did finally put it in perspective for me, and I must remind myself. There are plenty of people who have sublimated their desires within children and that is just as bad bad bad eh?
Am I Elinor Rigby? Am I that Karen Sillas character from that sad movie? Am I my mother? Am I everyman? Who am I? What do I want to be? Am I being that person? I just want to be surrounded by friends and laughing. I totally gamboled. I totally rolled some dice. I was mad.
I don't think I could have done any different. I loved. I lived. It hurts. Life is the shark. You can only see the thing after it's dead.
Why do I periodically want to scream and throw my head on the cement ground far below? Is this a normal reaction to living? Why does Mark's milky blue eye in the photograph scare me? Why does the tenuous connection to the internet people give me hope. Internet and NPR. Mark and I share that. We are lost from two different spectrums. It is our shared gift. We will be married four years in a couple of days.
So much is different than what I thought I would be. Have I ruined it? Have I merely turned the compost pile? I hope so. What will my future be? What will I make it? Life is a weary journey, but I think I just didn't grow where others "got on the bus" so to speak. I just need to get with it.
Henry Miller once said that hope was the refuge of the hopeless. Anais called henry fundamentally insane. Who's to say my freunden.