know? no

The urge to post, to blog, to throw words out into the void, to something, whatever it is sometimes feels consuming.

I don't know if it's the lack of recent posting, though I did squeeze a couple out yesterday, or if it's some primal thing that has over the years made me want to write things down. Maybe it's an attempt to void my mind of all the noise, as if getting the thoughts into a different form will quell the jumble that they are inside my head.

There isn't anything specific that I feel I should be writing, and honestly, the way I feel like I'm starting to feel never bodes well for readable or coherent thoughts. I posted too much about depression and dark places last year, and I'd like to think I did enough of that to last me for a good long while.

I'm a little jealous of Momma right now, and I think that has something to do with my feeling bad. I won't give you her whole story, but it often feels to me as if she can easily and without trying have half the world on their knees at her feet begging for even a glimpse from her onto their poor, miserable faces.

I, on the other hand, seem to go through life looking for connections that are never there. I can't quite decide what it is that I want, what my end goal should be, and I feel like I wander through days, doing those few things I have to do, searching for something to hold my attention, to make me feel alive or involved or even just a tiny bit of caring about.

I want something new. I don't know what. Maybe I want to go away from this town and start over somewhere. Maybe it's a relationship. Perhaps I need a hobby of some sort.

A change in the weather would be nice. I'm tired of the cold by now, and I have at least two more months of cold feet and stiff, achy hands to look forward to yet. Though today is rather cold, the sun is out, and it should be shining on my face and filling me with its light. Instead I sit here, checking and rechecking my email, debating a visit to Myspace or Facebook, knowing there's nothing new at either of those places.

In the end I think I'll just go back to my time worn catch phrase of I don't know. While I'd like to figure out what this longing feeling is I end up right back where I always end up, and like usual, I just don't know.

darkness

I knew days ago it was coming. I'm to the point where I can sense it, maybe smell it on the wind. I could call it the darkness, because that's what it is.

Within the week I'll be ass deep in the depression. Things aren't especially different than they were or have been. My life hasn't taken any spectacularly bad turns.

As a matter of fact nothing is noticeably different.

But it doesn't matter. It's coming, and I can feel it.