I've been down and out for the last month or so.
That new life smell has worn off and now things aren't feeling
quite as fuzzy.
I have lacked direction for so long that
I forget where I even came from.
I've been getting depressed over Alice again.
Although late last night I was reading the last missive I ever sent to her -
so long ago and so truly dramatic -
and it was as if I were writing for a stranger.
Someone who I can't honestly even picture anymore.
Someone who was, and remains, so far away and forgettable.
I can't even muster the moxie to go the Heming way
and just drink until there's art, song, or tragedy.
It just won't leave me alone:
one still, small, persistent voice telling me
"Don't give up."
Sometimes I wish it would just shut up.
Platitudes:
It's always darkest before the dawn.
Time heals all wounds.
Tomorrow is another day.
Tomorrow may be another day
but it's always seems so far
away.
Maybe I'm just being:
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