Desolate

This is the most appropriate word to describe how I feel lately. Everything I do feels empty and unfulfilling. When people ask me what's happening in my life, I always have the same answer--nothing new, nothing exciting. I am functioning on autopilot and I don't know how to stop. And I can't be sure that there's really a good reason to stop. Because I'm afraid stopping would break me. It would leave in such a state that even the commitments I have would no longer be worth leaving the house for. At least on auto-pilot I can get through this, even if I feel numb in the process. I wish there was some sort of anesthesia for this part of my life-- the part where I feel like I'd rather have terrible things happening in my life as long as I had someone to share them with than what I have right now; the part where I feel like there is no use in having good health if you have nobody to share its benefits with; the part where I feel like the only joy and the only heartache I get to experience is somebody else's. If only someone could tell me to count backwards from ten--but I'd only make it to eight--and then I would wake up, as though only a second had passed and I would find all of the deadness inside of me removed, the emptiness filled and I would be in the part where I have a new challenge: learning to live with and communicate with and love another person who was sharing the experience of life with me.

I am sorry that I have been so emo lately, and that I don't know when this emo stage will end. Some of you have told me that I should blog it out anyway, even though I have nothing happy to say. So I am, because I don't have a better solution. The obvious answer would be to pray, but lately I haven't been able to think what to pray for. My prayers have been paltry, mostly just cries to God to read what's on my heart and take it from there. I cannot find the words to explain it, just as I am sure I didn't really accurately explain it in my paragraph above. It all comes out sounding like jibberish, or pointless rambling. I have never had a time in my life when my words have failed me as much as they are failing me now.

And with that I bid you adieu, for the night or for the week--until I blog again.