Indecisive Title

This is the first time I've had time to think before dropping into bed here alone. I've been busy and exhausted up until now, but I came home and slept that off this afternoon and made dinner and got to bed early. Now I'm awake.

It was lonely going to bed tonight. I tried calling people, but no one was around. I need to get used to this anyhow, right?

I'm amazed at how quickly I've slipped back into my own internal headspace, as well. I'm a million miles away again most of the time, thinking of things that don't and never have existed except when I struggle feebly and try to talk to someone over the phone or something -- which doesn't work if you can't get a hold of them. The rats are alive and demanding, which is good, though.

Not having my cellphone and being away all day means, surprise, that it's very hard to comunicate with people during the day. I can't call someone up wasily and say, wanna go for lunch? nor is it easy finding time to call and do things like set up dates or whatever. I think not having much access to email doesn't help that either (computer blah go back to the guy's place blah and get actual internet software installed).

This isn't to say I'm unhappy, precisely, and it isn't a tearing sort of loneliness now. It's just that people are already becoming incidents in my life, brief and soon over, rather than something woven into the fabric of it.

No one has yet stayed at my place with me overnight. There are no memories in the walls like that.

It was a beautiful day, though, not too hot and not too cold with a breeze that poured up from the ocean like cool water to rush across the skin. There were people laughing around me on the bus (bussing is probably second only to smoking for meeting people) (I don't smoke) and, well, time is passing. I'm being propelled into my future. I wonder what it'll be? I can't stay here for long, not in this headspace, I know that. Too much of my life has been this kind of alone.

Back to bed now, I think. Take care.

Bitterness

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I feel so miserable. I'm going to, on and off, for awhile. I guess this is half-warning; if you don't like it, don't talk to me and don't read this livejournal or this post. It's half-request; call me sometimes, smile at me and give me hugs, it will help. Most of all, though, it's defiance. I deserve to feel my misery for a little bit, after seven and a half years (the anniversary is in February, oh, that will hurt). I'm going to feel it, and that's okay with me. I wholly embrace your right to be part or not be part of it as you see fit, but I'm not going to listen to anyone who tells me there's something wrong with feeling this way.

Oh, well. I guess that's it for now. Take care.

Two Hours...

...of unhappiness is up. Next installment, midnight at earliest. :/

Fleeting Poetry

On the bus, it said in part:

Speaking of desire--
to dive into life like a wave
not sure about coming up for breath;
how a kite is nothing
without string.

I think that summarises it well. I like the poetry in transit project. This author is named Jay Somethingsky.

I will look through rainbowk's archives for another poem I half-remember, later.

Work does make me feel better, oddly. I should feel very good by tomorrow evening.

By the way, what are people doing tomorrow evening?