and all at once you look across a crowded room to see the way that light attaches to a girl

[enthusiastick]

So, as indicated by the horifically ante meridian time stamp of my earlier post, I am at work today. The insurance industry doesn't take Columbus Day off, at least not collectively, so my office is open and you're expected to show up for work. That doesn't stop half the office from taking the day off anyway, they're just doing it out of their own time rather than being handed it by the company. So its pretty much a ghost town here today; the trainees are around, but the building is oddly quiet. And its gloomy and dark outside, which somehow carries over inside as well. And its cold outside, which means its downright freezing in here because its a big building and it'll take a while for the AC to die down.

All of this is just to say that, at the moment, my surroundings reflect the way I'm feeling fairly well.

Yes, I know, that's a cringingly, pathetically emo thing to say. But it doesn't stop it from being true. I'll feel better soon enough. This weekend in Chicago will undoubtedly be a blast, visiting both family and friends, however briefly. And it looks tentatively like I'm going to end up at another Prophet's Fall event, the weekend after that. So I'm hopeful.

If my melancholy is every bit as fleeting as my joy, and if I seem to get them in roughly equal measure, then what the Hell am I complaining about? Nothing, I guess. You can, if you prefer, consider this perfunctory; every so often I'm going to whine and mope, and lament the lack of color in my life. I'm allowed. I'm lonely.

I'm lonely, and I'm tired of it. I'm every bit as tired of it as I was the last time I said that, and then some.

I want the thunderbolt.

I want a new drug.

I need a rain coat.

I want something good.

I want life in every word.

I want to be a hero.

I want to be loved.

I really really need a rain coat...

I've been fairly listless the past few days, just unable to get my act together. I find myself laying abed 'till all hours on the weekend, not because I'm that tired but because sleeping has more innate seductive appeal than being awake, sometimes. My apartment is an absolute sty. This weekend I did some dishes and a spot of cleaning. If I were feeling manic, or even OK, that would have carried on into a general tidying up, since I'm sick to death of the mess and wish it would just go away. But I'm not feeling OK lately, so the mess endures. I'm annoyed I have to go home to it, but I made it, and there's only me to clean it up.

Comments

[rollick.livejournal.com]

This is such a lightdarkgrey post. Why'd you delete that journal?

[pooka-madness.livejournal.com]

Because I decided it was pretentious, redundant and ultimately insupportable to have my life in one place and my angst in another, and never the twain shall meet.

Does it bug you that its gone?

[rollick.livejournal.com]

Nah. I'm in favor of everybody having the one journal, myself. I was just curious whether you'd come to some big important conclusion about the whole thing, or just decided it was easier to only update in one place.

[pooka-madness.livejournal.com]

Both, actually. I just didn't announce the decision.