This year has done a number on the world as we know it, and on me for that matter. I have to believe that the pendulum of positive/negative energy has lost all forward momentum and is preparing for the arduous swing back towards reorder.
I want to be at home with my fish. And my actual fish. I’m running out of space in my notebook, and at a curiously similar rate, brain capacity. Luckily, this year is rapidly coming to a close and in January I can christen a new set of pages.
2018 holds no unrealistic promise. Just another allotted 365 days. Some good, some bad, most fairly meaningless. That’s just like life though isn’t it? Fairly meaningless.
I feel ill. As though the paint around my soul is beginning to chip away. Where’s this thing headed? Guess we won’t know until we get there. I could use a long weekend. I desperately need time and safe lodging to define and validate my existence.
I’m so tired.