Where am I going?
I look at all the sad lives and the wonderful and not so
wonderful decisions in the people I work with. I say to
myself, this is my future? But it is not my future. My
future is worse and I can't really admitt to myself yet
that it could get any worse. Is the money the important
object? Am I doing what I love? Am I loving what I do?
Will I ever own my own home? Probably not. I want more
hours in the day or night. I would love to work part time.
Making enough to get me by with some extra to save.
Reading her diaries makes me miss her. It's a constant
reminder of how far away she is. Talking on line is okay
and will have to be good enough but it doesn't amount to
personal conversations. I miss my writer companion. I
miss the closeness of my best friend. Just visiting with
her is like an embrace. I wonder if she knows that. My
ogre is good to me and he treats me well and i hope he
understands that i love him but that his love is not quite
the same though equally important. I want to be able to
express myself without the confinment of words. But it
seems impossible. I love and that is it.