Thinking about my life once more. Thinking about how things are and were, and will be, and all those things. Thinking about what was, what might be, and where I am now. Always somewhere between the past and the future, feeling like I’m trying to stay within the present.

I’m actually feeling good, but I’m tired. I’m pushing on and I’m pushing through. I’m getting through it all. I’m getting through everything the best that I can, and sometimes it is a struggle. Sometimes things take time. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes you just get through things and that’s it. That’s it and you’re free, and you keep on going. You feel the breeze in your hair as you drive onward and away from it all. As you drive toward wherever tomorrow lies, following a disappearing sun as it goes into night, and then away from it as it rises behind you.

A road is a long way to go about thinking about things, and sometimes it’s the best way to go about things. But sometimes it is too long. A good hard think doesn’t always need to be met with a bitter emotionlessness, or a bitter intensity. It doesn’t always need to be gripping either, but it’s the road and the drive, and that scar tissue that pushes one to go inward and associate (among other reasons, of course as there are plenty of reasons as to why this stuff happens).

The road follows curves and topography, but it’s always straight and it’s an arid area, even when flush with life. It doesn’t matter because you’re present and there in the moment, but you’re elsewhere.

I think I feel like I’m currently elsewhere. I don’t know. I’m tired and happy. Happiest I’ve been in years, but things keep going. Nothing changes and everything changes. A constant state of still flux. It keeps on going and whatever lies around the corner is not here, but I keep on going. I want to see what is around the corner.

I was wondering to myself the other day about my ex, and how just maybe, even though I’m happy and I’m enjoying what’s going on in my life, things still would be better with her around. But I don’t know. I’ve got my problems and she has hers, and I don’t know if things would actually be better because I remember all the stuff that was hurtful and the things I tolerated, and I remember how she seemed resentful about my own discomforts and desire to try and beat my sugar addiction, and what those required from her. I don’t know for sure, of course, but it’s how it felt.

So, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m living it and I’m feeling it, but I don’t know. I keep on going and I’m happy, but maybe I’m not enjoying life. Maybe I feel like too much is missing. But I won’t know until I get further ahead from where I am now.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 08:22:08

Didn’t get heavy, but it got pretty serious. I don’t know if that is a good thing and I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. It’s just a thing.

Written at work.