Threnody

I often wonder what it would be like to be the last of all my loved ones to pass away. To be alone, sitting on a chair, a ripe old age, looking out into the field and the trees marking the edge of the forest, hearing a train passing somewhere in the distance, and thinking of my youth, my friends, my wife, my mother and father, all gone from this world, with me left alone to witness their deaths and to continue on without them. It brings me to tears every time I think about it.

But then I think it would be a good death to have - to be the one that makes sure that all of the people who have touched my life have safely gone over to the other side.

I'm trying to find my way home

I'm easily distracted by the images that I see and it makes my skin crawl and my blood boil. It's cold outside but the air revitalizes my tired lungs. I'm trying to find a meaning to all of this - I'm at my wit's end. I used to know how to live my life, and by that I mean the way to conceive of my place in this world and create some sort of meaningful narrative by which to live my life. And now, I'm spiralling out of control in slow motion. I'm losing my way, if I haven't lost it completely already. My sense of self has become fragmented, partly because of the unlucky vicissitudes of my life, and partly because of my own decisions (and indecisions). If there is anyone to blame at the heart of all this, it is me.