Love is supposed to be a good thing, yet I feel that it hung me out to dry yesterday, and here I am, at two a.m., yet to sleep, wondering how I can get to work in the later morning with a positive attitude--much less keep it. I want to believe in love, but I lie in bed motionless for an hour pleading with it to please help me. I can't believe in a god, but I'm tired of carrying this burden. How else can it be lifted from me? Intellect is cold and insipid in matters of my heart. My heart must be where my compassionate understanding is, but it requires too much from me that I don't know how to give. It asks me to love myself.
To say that the traffic outside is slow is to say that I hear a couple cars a minute slishing down the wet street about thirty feet from my window. It is probably no longer raining, but water drips in a slow rhythm from the leaky gutter onto my sill. I'm hungry. I won't get to sleep that way.
I forgot to take my St. John's wort yesterday. Wouldn't it be nice to find out that that is all I need to keep my mood up? It would have helped yesterday if Julie hadn't tried so hard to not look at me. I told her Monday night that I couldn't pretend things were okay or back to "normal" or that I had no romantic feelings for her. I didn't tell her to do the pretending for me. But there I go, getting bitter and resentful. Good moods are so transient, I wonder if they're even real. Real things should stay. I don't like where that line of thought takes me.
I ate a cheese stick. It didn't improve my mood, but it might help me sleep. But I don't want to turn out the light.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment