Another Day

I feel old, alone, a little melancholy, but alright. I’m so tired I can barely think. Simple tasks seem out of my reach if they involve thinking. I chose to workout instead of get enough sleep today as I have been doing many days, and I wouldn’t have lasted this long if I hadn’t made that choice. I’m stronger than I’ve been in two years, but physical strength is all I have to keep me going. I’ve been thinking about my next trip, though it’s months away. I mark off the days on the calendar, and I keep counting wrong, so they last longer. I’ve been thinking of studying Spanish, so I can disappear in Central or South America. I feel it will be the new Europe. I need to travel. I’ve found that I’m fine alone. I’ve spent so much time looking for someone, but we all know how that goes, it doesn’t work for me. I don’t think I could commit even if I found someone. Eh, it’s cheaper to travel alone. I need another Hemmingway book to read. I looked up all his works online, but I left my card in my room so I couldn’t order them. I wonder if that’s how he felt going through so many women. I don’t think he was a womanizer, just human. Some of us don’t have longevity in us, I think.