2017-08-28 - 6:23 p.m.
Feeling alone and isolated right now. It's hard doing this. I don't know what to choose or who to choose to hang out with. Seems like when I turn around, I better have the armor on. It's not as if I expected a butterflies and bluebirds existence, but does everything have to crumble into darkness and pain? Is this the natural order of things? Happiness, smiles, a pure and lovely friendship. A relationship daringly blossoms in the arctic of cynical disintegration and chaos, only to be tested and found soft, decayed and black. Prevention becomes now the utmost achievement, to foresee as a prophet through a pristine petaled bloom. The loss is felt reflexively, deeply and uncontrollably inside the once-dormant human center. I thought I had lost it, evolved into thinking it away. It throbs relentlessly, and I surrender to its divine connection to what is real. It may be the only thing. I loved and lost and loved again, the pain constitutively present, as I wake or work or sleep. I do not control it. I do not escape. We do not surpass it still. It is the ache of sorrow, the place of connection. Where I was once a shell, a face without a name, I am now one with everyone. It is a pulsating life, an alarm of deepest truth. I am here. I am alive.