“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?” Ernest Hemingway

Today I am tired
I fell asleep on the bus.
Now my neck hurts and I had to walk a long way because I missed my stop.
If only there was more parking in the city.

Here is a poem about being tired

Heavy weight on eyes that blurr
I hope I do not drool on her
So she wont say excuse me sir
This girl's asleep and she wont stir
My mouth will feel full of fur
I've missed my stop for sure

"We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us." Joseph Campbell

There are no words. There are only feelings. There are only sounds and looks. Glances.
There is no word for this.
He leaves. And again and again. And yet  comes back.

Is it for me?

How many minutes do I waste waiting. Thousands? Millions?

And if this was the last time. If this is the end. I guess I can say I loved deeply.
I would have given my life.
I would still give it.
At least I can say there is something that is more than myself.

"A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on." Winston Churchill

This is the truth.

My life is not how I thought it would be. It's not worse. Honestly my 16 year old self would probably be proud of 21 year old me. But then teenagers are pretty fucking stupid.

I don't have a boyfriend but I do have a child. He has red hair. His real father lives over seas and my ex, and previous alleged father, left me when he found out said child was not his and now only sees my son on the weekend. Briefly.

So I'm basically completely alone with my son. Which is actually ok. I don't mind living alone. I do miss sex. But then I'm labeling my vagina as a no fly zone at this point due to my extreme fertility. I may seem like a bad person. And maybe I am. I don't want sympathy.

They say time heals all. I do wonder though if I have broken my life beyond complete healing. I know I'll be OK. Just a big scar not a festering wound.

“The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.” Mark Twain

There are things that are here and things that are not
What we hold dear, is what we forgot
Though our lives remain, our death is our lot
And so on and so on until we all rot

They say ice is cold, and fire hot
Awakened by something, I'm not sure what
Saved from a dream I wish I forgot
And so on and so on until we all rot

The thought I have now, tomorrow forgot
Life it has followed me to this spot
I do believe this may be my lot
And so on and so on until you all rot

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I can't seem to find any motivation. I think I may be depressed. I'm not sure though. Aren't you supposed to feel sad when you're depressed. I don't feel sad. I don't really feel anything. I think that's worse. I'd like to cry and yell.

I always thought depression was a violent storm. A horrible and relentless attack on the senses. What I feel now is more a kin to the way a cliff drops suddenly to nothingness and I haven't fallen yet but I know that I will and all I truly notice is silence and loneliness. The fall will be release.

Not all who wander are lost. J. R. R. Tolkien

It has been a while since I posted last. I guess things continue. There is me and there is you. More broken then fixed.

If I was to disappear now someone would miss me. People would cry. But it would not be the end. So I will keep searching for the purpose. And I will not rest. I can not rest.

I went on a very confusing date. I don't usually go on dates but this guy seemed... Perfect?
Very attractive doctor. Seemingly normal.
So I went.
I would trade his lifeless lips in for hands of hunger. There is nothing LESS attractive then a man that doesn't know how to kiss like he means it.