Eyes wide open. I'm paying the "awake at 6am, coming down" price for
having caffeine. I said I wouldn't do that again. But obviously I hate
this feeling less than thinking about her. Or all those great ideas I
don't pursue. Or the half-completed projects I do. Or my general
health and well-being. Oh, let's be honest, it's mostly her. And them.
And all the lack of me.
The soundtrack from the night replays inside my ears and silently I
smile. It is both funny and perverse that the only way I've found to
Stop is to Go. The only way to make the endless madness cease is to
immerse myself in ideas, submerse myself in service. I wrap myself up
in work and drown myself dancing.
If I just get enough forward momentum for something else, anything
else, maybe I can leave the rest behind. Maybe if I figure out how to
Move Forward, I can finally Move On?
I really want to Stop. And so I Go.
I must still be broken.
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