second law of thermodynamics/everything goes to shit
I am very grateful for the messages of support, anonymous and not. Please imagine that I am thanking you unknown souls individually—I can only guess that I'm a fairly repulsive read at the moment.
I keep thinking of the week two summers ago—was it only a week? even less?—when I drank happiness like milk, when the world vibrated around me. And the bleak months that followed. And the sporadic bursts thereafter, only enough to keep the need alive. Moving to Portland was a mistake, but I really wanted to find solace there, in the desperate way that one wants things that one knows, deep down, don't exist. Never existed. I think I invented a lover. I had been breathing very thin air for a very long time, and I had to keep from asphyxiating. I know that the life-as-pie-chart is a terrible model, but I see it; I see the pitifully thin sliver of time in which I have been—and believe me, I truly hate this past participle—loved, in that sense; and I just don't understand how I made it this far. Of course some good things have come out of all the lonely years. But my life is short enough to be easily summarized, and oh God does it seem sterile.
Something she said, by way of attempted consolation: "You're so young. You can still do so much." I know. I am just so tired of doing it alone.
I have employment here, anyway, and I should be grateful that money is not a pressing concern. But I continue to envy the dead.
