bleak

I'm not sure if I want to do this anymore.

I'm pretty sure that I don't want to stop, but I can't remember why I decided to do this in the first place. And when your motivation is not stopping rather than continuing...it all seems pretty bleak, doesn't it?

Last night I had one of my attacks of cabin fever. It was unfortunately timed; although Mom & Dad could and did watch Blake-o-rama, the Boy was reluctant to go out and our drive turned into an argument and an aimless ramble. Driving through Brampton these days is not unlike a waking nightmare: everything is familiar, but there is no purpose to anything. Having no person to expect me, I cannot derive meaning from any errand or trip. Every place is hollow. Every drive is pointless.

I'm starting to wonder if T.S. Eliot ever moved in with his parents as an adult.

blake shows me fear in a handful of dust

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 3/19/2004 04:44:00 p.m.