I am beyond flawed. I remain afraid of a great many things. I worry. I wring my hands. I don't sleep sometimes.
I am uneasy in my skin...bones...mind. I am alone. I am always alone. I feel my aloneness acutely. I am subtly self destructing. Grasping for any glimmer of hope that all shall be well. That is the knot that I tie to hang onto. I have been hanging on forever. There is a weariness to my life. It hovers just on the periphery. I am good at staying steps ahead. But of late I am losing or seemingly losing my ability to stay ahead of my weariness.
I can't seem to articulate my mood. It washes over me like a fine mist, almost unnoticeable. I go to bed tired. I wake up tired. Always alone. Is it the aloneness haunting me? Or some other deeply rooted monster looking for a place at the table of my big life?
I soldier on. Things have to get done, dishes, laundry, children fed and shuttled here and there. My dreams come in spurts like some long told fairy tale that has lost a great deal of its grandeur and now seems like a ridiculous allegory tale of woe.
I am sighing often.