7/3/7
So fucking miserable I had to stop midwalk to write it down just so I can have it out. The world is beautiful, the Sound, calm, peaceful, flat as glass below a pale blue sky and I look at this beauty and I feel like crying, an unexplainable ache, it all wells up and I don’t know how I can possibly get through the day without breaking into tears. This helps, but I know I must stop and head in and continue a charade that comes so easily sometimes that I think it isn’t one. Still in my moments of silence, in the solitude I feel I so desperately require, I feel nothing but that ache and the tears welling and the urge (he writes as a fine jeaned ass walks by distracting him from his self pity). The beautiful family, the decent job, the house, this place, the sublime (the word of the day is…”sublime”! – oh, thank you, I’m so happy to be chosen word of the day, I’d like to thank my friends, my family, and of course my roots…) magic of the day, all seem to conspire to make me feel inferior, unworthy, repugnant like most of mankind, less of course the wondrous females who I can’t help but oogle and feel worse for it. OK, I’ll walk to work and do my best, but I’ll probably get drunk on the way home – and I hate myself for that, too, yet, yet…he pauses to think of an excuse but there is none other than his own weakness.