the difficulty of loneliness is that you’re forced to bear the burden of the world on your shoulders alone.  i used to pay for the kind of friendship that would relieve my sore shoulders and shaking knees from that sort of strain, and that service was called therapy.  i don’t think i need therapy anymore, or at least right now, and so i find myself turning to another socially acceptable form of companionship — this blog.  there is something important about opening your mouth and letting words come out, even if they’re the wrong ones.  every time i talk and watch the words leave my system, i don’t have to own all of them anymore.  sometimes giving away words for free is the smartest investment you can make in your own success.

i wouldn’t necessarily say that i’m lonely or unhappy or terribly sad, and yet here i am in hopes of throwing words at this space and letting it carry some of the weight.  my skin is sagging from the mere force of my innards wanting out.  since i returned to this continent, i have made attempts at being my own slave driver, and guess what — it really worked.  man it’s unbelievable the high i’ve been experiencing since deciding to be better.  i found myself stupidly happy in my little nook in the center of athens, listening to tons of new music and dreaming of my future.  oh how i adore those periods of pure solitary amusement, when you’re in such a constant state of straight-up inspired enjoyment that there’s no space left to tack on judgment or superficial layers.   i’m such a giant of a personality in those moments that any spec of self-doubt is instantly obliterated; my brain is functioning at such a high level that time and space and distraction and any form of loserdom can’t survive.  i simply won’t give air to it.

suffice it to say, things were looking up.

and yet, i’m not an island.  every time i think i can allow my island-like characteristics to shine for a while, allowing me to simply enjoy myself, i find my little world attacked by intruders.  my controlled environment gets spoiled by interruptions and obligations and relationships and… death.

my brother died one year ago today.

and with that i’ll let the internet take on a bit of my burden and give my skin and muscles and shoulders and knees a break.  one year later, and we’re still sore.  one year later, and the words still come out so slowly.  i hold closely his person and his wit, his smile and his thor-like calves.  i can bear the weight of his truth.

just take that fact.  i can’t lift it today.