I need to write right now. I need to get out what I'm feeling and work through it. I really want to call someone and talk about it, but I don't know who. So I write to no one.
I'm tired. Of a lot. Of general things, of specific things. It's just exhausting. I don't know what to do. I don't know where to turn.
I feel like part of it is my fault. I feel like I'm bringing it all down on myself. But am I? It takes two. It takes a cause and a reaction. Am I the cause? Have I always been the cause? Why is the reaction always so hard to deal with? Why can't the reaction, just for once, be love and understanding?
Am I asking for too much? Why, when I ask for what I want, what I need, is it met with defensiveness?
Why is everything so hard lately? Why does everything take so much effort?
Am I happy? Is this really what I want?
Will I get any sleep tonight?
singing of beautiful and impossible things,
of things that are lovely and that never happen,
of things that are not and that should be." -Oscar Wilde
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