And now it's February already. And I haven't written anything here in almost a month. But that's okay. Nobody cares. I certainly don't care, so I can't imagine any of you readers giving a shit.
The same words, after all, can only be expressed in so many ways. A thesaurus only goes so far.
Except for an irrelevant interlude spent at CornerGirl's house, eating a yummy dinner, today has been uneventful.
I've felt distant today. Distant from all of this bullshit that I use instead of a life. The last time I felt this way for any length of time, I wondered if I'd died in my sleep, and I was naught but a ghost waiting for a bright light to guide me to a better place. Or, at least, a different place. Well, no such luck, then or now. I'm still here. Still muddling through. Managing as well as I can.
Armed with my new-found distance, I've been able to ask myself how and why. I've been doing that a lot today.
No matter. It is what it is. I keep saying that. Saying and accepting are two different things, by the way, in case you were wondering.
I'm able to ask myself these questions, but the answers remain as elusive as ever. This should be over, but it's not. I should know better, but I don't. I should have moved on, but I've instead remained rooted here. In this fucking gray place.
For the last couple of hours, I've been downstairs. Watching a movie. Shooting pool. Then I had an idea. An idea to write something. What, exactly, I didn't know. Still don't know. I don't really think this counts. Fingers banging into keys. Words emerge, if I'm lucky.