Despite It All, There Is Still Hope

Thu Jun 12 2003 00:32AM -0600

(I mean, certain situations are pretty much dead in the water, but, in general, there must be some hope. Even if there isn't, I have to at least pretend there is something to hope for.)

I have thought it once upon a time, and it was amusing to hear it told to me, as if in reply: that when things are really bad, you can only think that things are bound to get better. The darkest hour is right before dawn, right?

Really, really, the problem is that I am thinking about this too much. (A part of my soul is heaving with exertion, with desperation, the violent delirium of the dying. But this too will pass away. In all honesty, I can do without this. Because I have to. There really is no greater imperative.)

The Road is lonely.

Unfortunately, apparently, my choice was made a long time ago, before I even knew I was on the Road.

(Oh, how, how, how, can I stop wanting something that I want very badly?)

Just let me rest for me now. One year has passed since I rendered my own diagnosis (congestive soul failure, indeed), and right now I can't see the forest for the trees. It really feels like very little has changed, and, sure, one year's worth of notes proves nothing, but right now, in this very moment, I feel very old. Not because of the years elapsed or in terms of experience, but only in that all I can see right now is the End, and the In-between seems superfluous. (I mean, seriously, how many fucking years do I have to spend in isolation?) I really feel like this is becoming an immutable part of my life, that, soon, this desolation will be a defining characteristic of my soul.

Ah, screw it. There's no point in writing anything past midnight when you're depressed. Tomorrow, despite all the oppressive shittiness of the world, is still another day.

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