I have been struggling for some time now to express myself in this online journal, but I am filled with a certain degree of emotional emptiness, a condition that is very counterproductive when one is trying to bare ones soul via the written word. As I thought about my predicament, I remembered something I had written on August 21, 1994. It was only half true at that time. Now it is entirely true:
"In the continual evolution of the human soul, one does not fully realize — until it hits — just how wrong life can actually go. I have realized for some months now that I can sweep all past miseries and pains away as if they never existed. That bothers me because they were at least the miseries and pains of a living person, who thought of them as permanent, yet poetic, obstacles, to be battled with creative enthusiasm. This thing, however, this nothingness that I am now experiencing is so horrible that I can barely treat it with enough interest to write plainly about it.
"Much of the horror lies in the fact that I have fallen out of youth (relatively speaking). The rest lies with my belief that I can do nothing to overcome such an obstacle.
"...Probably the saddest thing, though, is that there is no magic left in the world that moves me. Even if I see it with my own eyes, it fails to move me."
Lately, I find myself almost wishing to become involved in another unpleasant relationship, simply so that I can feel alive again on the inside.
