Scraps

I don't know how I get through days sometimes. Today wasn't a day that was particularly bad, it was actually pretty good. But I don't how I can string days together. Despite what people say about my attitude, it's not all that positive, at least on a macrolevel. I wouldn't be surprised if I was killed before I hit 40. I'm not going to die then (I keep my health too well), but a murder wouldn't surprise me. See that's what I mean, even fostering thoughts as morbid as that is bad news.

I just keep going. Pressing on, as Calvin Coolidge used to say. But I swear, pressing on isnt enough. I'm half as satisfied as I want to be. Life is becoming so hard. It is for all of us, and I can handle my affairs pretty well, but I don't want to just do pretty well. I want to do well. I don't want to be satisfied. I want to be happy.

The top of my life to-do list says: "Family. Enough said."

I don't see myself getting any closer to it. I'm whirling around like a milkshake in a blender, and not getting any closer. I often feel, physically, my chest consumed with emotion and energy...but it is never released. I can barely stand it.

I can barely stand listening to music a lot. I scroll through my MP3 player like a fiend. I'm never satisfied with what I'm listening to. There are so many songs I like, love. But I just can't bring myself to feel like listening to them.

Dear Love,
I'm writing this to you in anticipation. I miss you already, and you havent even revealed your name yet. (Look above, I can only call you "love".) You are the equivalent of sunshine, but are shrouded in shadow. Where are you. I don't ask a question, I'm trying in vain to command an answer. Why are you only a thought when I look out the window of the city bus at night by myself sitting amongst the other lonely passengers? Where are you sleeping when I look the short distance across my plaid pillowcase, expecting to see a face but only seeing a pillow?
I don't know why you don't want to be here. I'm not even saying you should come all this way by yourself, I'll send you a bus-fare. I'll send you a plane ticket. I'll come. Just stay with me. Or stay with me...someday. I'm not trying to get you to give up all your hopes and dreams. I'm not trying to make you feel like shit, or be whipped. I just want to be the same as you. Teeter-totters don't work with one person. Come home, please. Even just come here, or I'll come there, and then we'll find home and go there.
You have to be out there reading this, somewhere. You have to be. I can't even consider the possibility that you aren't. I can't consider that life can sum-up like 1+0=1. It has to be 1+1=2. Dave Matthews even says "We'll climb on 2 by 2, to be sure these days continue...". He wouldn't lie. If you aren't somewhere, most of the important things I know would be untrue.
The truth is, I don't need you now, but I want you now. Someday though, I'll need you. I'll need you to at least be out there somewhere, so there's more reason to go on than just being successful. I'm trying to focus on being successful right now, so I don't have to worry about that when I finally find you, at which time I'll only want to worry about being happy.
So Love, once you get this, hold on to it. And use it to remind me if I forget how much I love you. Don't ever let me let you go. I'm an imperfect man. I make lots of mistakes. Lots of mistakes. And keep this so once I find you, I'll know it's you. Don't give on on me either. I don't run as fast as all men, if someone else gets to your doorstep, remember that I'm coming. Remember that I love you, and you're my Love.

With love and God's speed,
Your Love