Out, Out Damn Spot - Plodding Along

I am totally devoid of describing how I feel, right now. I am at a loss for words. This is seldom the case for me so I am forcing myself to write something – anything. I really just have too much empty space: in my day, in my life, in my heart, in my head. I am purposeless and pointless. It is a painful place to find one self. Yesterday, I was enjoying conversation and expectations. I was involved and engaged in trying to live. I had some lively interaction, but most importantly, I felt alive because I had a person that encouraged me to live again. In less than a day that person has experienced too much and has retreated. I can not criticize their decision. It is the right one from a practical standpoint. I am weary of practicality. I am so weary.

Nothing terrible occurred and no bridges were burned. Simply, feelings ran high and hearts sank low with the acknowledged fact our worlds must not get intermingled. Those bridges spanned the chasm of isolation and despair for me. Now, that road will not be on my possible paths of future hope. I was packing for a journey which I will never get to take. Those bags seem so heavy, now, while my anticipation feels so meaningless. Every other thought causes actual pain. My heart slows and I wish it would cease to beat altogether. I have had enough of being. I no longer care to exist. I have no way out. I have no way forward. I have no way through. I have no way at all.