I'm at a pivot point I think. I think I can see the other side of the mountain, but it looks just as bleak.
Fuck. I hate being alone. The irony is that I'm so very aware of the universe and that I'm not alone. Okay, it's like being behind glass, and I can see everyone but I cannot touch them. I ache for it. I weep for it. There's no poetry to my melancholy. Perhaps it would be more productive to produce with this yearning than to be self deprecating.
Feeling lost again?
Aye. The world still spins, the stars wheel o'erhead. And I feel the crash of the waves on my naked skin. There is salt. And Blood. I think I shall sleep awhile in the sand and let Morpheus take away the ache.