alone can help one do great things, but loneliness does not become anyone

It will always be there.

I will always harbor resentment towards you. I will always be bitter. Some days have, and will be, worse than others. Some will pass by without a thought glancing in your direction.

But it will always be there. Quiet little fanged creature; dormant volcano. A half-tamed monster. Eyes that simmer, but a body that is curled up tight in preparation for a restless hibernation.

I haven't yet met a single person with any feeling in his or her heart that has let go of anything entirely. To completely lose my grip on these memories, this thing--why, I'd forget an important part of my life. It would be like waking up with flaming red locks and forgetting I'd dyed them.

Your ghost may spend the longest time haunting me. I need to let it live here, to show you that I can keep moving; that I can walk through flickering apparitions without feeling so much as a shiver.

I feel anemic these days. I've been trying to eat more meat, because that's been a problem, not enough meat, but in vain, I suppose. My body clock has been thrown off-kilter again as well. I smell fish downstairs and wish I could cook half as well as my mother.

At this moment, here, I feel like I cannot do this. As the Avett Brothers song goes, "I don't wanna live, but I sure don't wanna die." I know I will find strength, in something, and soon, that will help me carry on. I just don't feel it in this moment. Indifference is the thick fog surrounding my head. Unless I earnestly wish for this vessel to be shipwrecked, I need to trust my intuition.

But, seven hours later, another week begins. And I must rise for this one, whether my muscles are ready or not.