As I struggle through my daily routine I pause for a moment and realize that not only am I alone, I am feeling alone while being alone.

I have forgotten what it means to be half of an equation. I am a fraction of what I used to be while learning to survive as a whole.

A hole.

An empty hole.

I search.

I'm starting to feel as though I'm traveling on a carousel.

Whenever I journey to a new vista, or explorer a path unknown, I seem to find myself back here alone and staring at the same empty landscape. And the frightening thing is that due to it's familiarity, it's starting to feel too comfortable.

Throughout my existence I've been reminded that ( Read more... )

What is it that makes a man give up hope. Is it simple exhaustion or is it fear? And what is it that makes him continue? The hope of a better tomorrow I guess.

There has to be an external force that keeps us hoping for a better tomorrow. Maybe that is the essence of survival.

I question.

I receive some nourishment and feel awakened by the hope that maybe this planet will not forsake me.

A brief burst of energy motivates me to continue my search.

And yet, I hesitate.

It's been a while since my last nourishment and I'm feeling increasingly isolated as the days continue.  Darkness is becoming my friend - imagination my enemy. I worry that it will soon manifest itself as fear.

I wait.

Like many other days, today was just a reminder of the drudgery that is living.

I discover a brief flow of water in the landscape and I see a clearing ahead.

It is new terrain I have not yet traveled.

I start to wonder if it's worth the journey.

I gamble.

There are times when I find myself just wanting to sleep.

My energy seems to fade to negative levels.

Is it due to my daily activities or just a need to escape to a place beyond here?

For now, I am awake.

As I think about my surroundings, I realize how life is just a never-ending sequence of moments.

Some you won't remember, some you'll never forget and some you wish you could.

Most moments are are wasted on trivial pursuits and self-serving pettiness. And what can be most provoking is the realization that at any time the moments can stop.  As I ( Read more... )

The angry one seeks my presence. 
He does not speak because he has no mouth. 
He ingests his nourishment from of a tube running through his nostril and into his gullet.

He has no need to vocalize his displeasure.  He can communicate thoroughly with a stare.

I hesitate.

Menial tasks fill my daily routine.

I work mindlessly, wondering when my senses will find stimulation again.

I postpone dealing with the angry ones for awhile and as much as I dread the night, I find comfort in it's solitude.

I meander.