...the stuff in the last entry.
It's all trivial.
It's the things I am not sadistic enough to make you read about that make me feel hopeless. Ready to jack it all in.
Sadly, my subconscious is masochistic enough to bring up those subjects almost every night. I dread sleep these days because I know what's waiting on the other side.
Out-of-my-reach things. Impossible things. What-might-have-been things.
Delusions, carefully nurtured for a time then painfully torn away.
I face a future of an unending stream of lonely days and nights, and am too scarred by the past to put any effort into changing what now seems inevitable. And, from time to time, I am reminded anew of the futility of desiring anything. Or anyone.
It's not that I don't want to care. I have no reason to care.
Without that, it's game over. Time to hang up the uniform and forget all about taking the field again.
2 days ago