reach down your hand in your pocket, pull out some hope for me

I have been writing.  I stopped taking pictures, but I have been writing.  I want to get back on the picture thing but these past few days I have been in a dark emotional hole and the apathy…oh the apathy.

I am currently working on a post that is already nearly 6,000 words long – and I’ve only just scratched the surface.  I thought that writing all of it, writing the story of how I got to the present, would help.  Would pull me out of this funk I’ve been sinking into.

But so far I don’t think it has.  The catharsis I thought would come is nowhere to be found.  In fact, I think I feel worse.

But I do plan to keep going, to tell the story if only because it’s never been told before.  Maybe it won’t be until the end that everything will become clear to me and I can stop tormenting myself with the past.

Well I’m so terrified of no one else but me
But I’m here all the time
So I won’t go away

It’s been a long day. A long year. Sometimes it feels like a long life.

One comment

  1. Hillary says:

    For what it’s worth I look forward to reading the story. Thinking of you!