Dark days are descending again. I’ve been reading (absorbing, obsessing) some of Jack Kerouac’s journals and I get it and he got it and I can only read a few pages at a time because my mind begins to race and connect and understand and scream for the release. The release I mentioned in an earlier post. But right now, the dark days are descending. I feel alone, am realizing my aloneness more and more. My life is so singular in its purpose and motives. A loud, angry discussion a week or so ago gave way to realizations that I have beaten away my life. Dark days, indeed.
Today has been a day of hopelessness. A day filled with not much joy and many, many sorrows. Not even my new happy song made it better. Dark, dark days.
I hate that I am surrounded by blessings, surrounded by people who love me and whom I love and yet, I am so lonely that it almost seems to kill parts of me. I have given away, forgotten, or given up on so much. I don’t want it back. I do not want to see him again. I have come this far without seeing his eyes. I can’t give in to the dark days, to the dark, hopeless feelings.
I can’t breathe. So much is too much. How. Will I? Make it. Like this.