I'm sorry...

for the lack of what might pass as any interesting posts here lately. I am seriously, undeniably and dangerously burned out. I'm sick of everything. I'm facing some decisions in my life that I wasn't anticipating at the age of fifty four, not the least of which are my job, my marriage, my need for some modicum of personal worth... WC Fields once said, "There comes a time in a man's life when he must grab the bull by the tail and face the situation", and, my fellow wanderers, I'm a'fear'd that time might be now. I feel like a soaked sponge in need of a serious wringing out. I'm full. Without delving too deeply into the specific situations, I have to preface all of this by saying that, for those who don't really know me, I'm a pretty simple person (keep the jokes to yourself, please...). I do not want much. Nor do I want for much. I live a comfortable life, although it could be better, at least financially. We get by better than some I know, as far as the daily things in life are concerned. We have a roof over our heads, such as Stately Sad Old Goth Manor is. Our daughters are bright, wonderful beings that live their lives to the fullest. They understand the ways of the world and take things as they come. I don't fear for them in that way. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty comfortable in saying that they are the least of my worries. They are resourceful, independent and, above all, endowed with common sense. They will go far. Much further than I've gone, thank Bast for that. I, on the other hand, seem to be back-sliding into some nether region that not only terrifies me, but baffles me to an extent that causes me questioning everything I do, everything I think, everything I feel. I'm beginning to feel that the simple things that I used to enjoy in this life have passed me by and my soul is sort of whirling in some undefined place that is neither where I want to be, nor where I need to be, and, frankly speaking, I'm scared.

Theoden: "Where is the horse and the rider?
Where is the wind that was blowing?
They have past like rain on the mountains,
like wind in the meadow.
The days have come down on the West,
behind the hills into shadow.
How did it come to this?"
JRR Tolkien
The Lord Of The Rings; The Return Of The King

You know, I keep waiting and watching and waiting, but it never comes. When is it right to reach out and grab, damning all else and everyone else, for that one moment? Is that what it's all about? Is that all there is? Wanting, not having? Fuck that. When is it ok to do what you need to do and put the needs of others aside? Ever? I posted something a few days ago about knowing how Frodo felt, carrying that damned ring. I wasn't kidding. The weight I carry right now I wouldn't wish on anyone. Only there's no Mordor to travel to, no Black Gates to pass, no Mount Doom to cast this weight into. I sit in the dark sometimes wondering just how I'm going to bear this until the end... I go to bed at night sometimes wishing that I would just slip away in the dark so I won't have to face another day of everyone wanting a piece of me, wanting me to solve every fucking problem in their lives, wanting me to have every answer... I wish, just once, that someone would ask me what they could do for me, what answer could they give me, what weight could they shoulder for a while. I used to be able to shrug all this off, but not any more. And that's whats scaring the shit out of me. I really don't know what to do anymore. No one is ever satisfied, no matter how much they carve out of me each day. No one ever says, "thank you".
You know what it is? I'm too fucking honest. Or stupid. I actually believe that being good and right and just matters for something. What that is, I can't say, because I haven't seen it yet. Will I ever? Fuck knows... I've always tried to live a virtuous life. If I promised something to someone, I kept that promise. If the truth needed to be told, I've told it. If I needed to pay some price to make someone else happy or safe or feel fulfilled, I fucking paid it. Sometimes I paid it ten-fold. Sometimes twenty... I guess I'm wondering when it starts coming back my way. Ever? I'm tired of pretending that everything is OK. It's not. No happy endings. No crowns. Not even a moment of peace. That would be nice. Just one moment of pure peace. Not the peace of compromise, nor rationalization, just plain, old garden variety peace. Feh...
Fuck this. I'm going to go drink myself into a coma. Sorry for bending your ear in this way. Really. It's odd that I can spill my guts to folks that I've never met (aside from a few, wonderful, true beings) and I can't even confront myself. What a sorry thing I am, huh?
Time to wander, my dear friends. I bid thee peace.
Fare thee well...

wander with me...



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