In deleting the emails from an email that no longer exists, I felt like I was losing something, even though I couldn’t read the emails anymore. I couldn’t say for sure who they were from, but I had an idea. All of those messages gone. There must have been over 50 of them lost to a deleted email address. It made me wonder about all the other emails. Would those stories be lost too? I thought about how I was that many years ago so naïve, depressed, yet optimistic. Am I any better today? I’m not depressed, naïve, nor optimistic. Where does that leave me? Nostalgicly alone?
Blah. If I weren’t alone at this point, I’d be like so many of my friends- tied down. Every day it seems I love/hate my life more. The uncertainty grows around me like a bamboo forest, and I barely have 2 dollars to buy a cup of coffee, but I still buy the coffee not knowing where my next 2 will come from, and all my credit is taken up by my travels. 5 months ago I thought I would be about to move into a house with financial security to some extent, but I’m worse off than I was then, though someone wants to publish one of my stories, one that I haven’t even written yet. So what does all this mean? Nothing much, that it feels like I’m going nowhere, but everything around me is changing and moving. Maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up somewhere else, but I think not. Even today driving on the ice made me feel out of place. I wasn’t supposed to be here just yet. I haven’t driven on ice in 5 years. Today I feel like a fish on ice or a monkey out of the Amazon, and don’t ask me to explain because I don’t think I could.
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