In this photo, I feel at home. In the fog, I feel at home.
It occurs to me now that middle of last week I wrote – what I then considered a journal entry on ruled line paper – a sort of … goodbye letter. I can’t really stand the thought of typing the word.
But I feel that way again today. And nothing I do can seem to lift ‘the fog.’
This isn’t some sort of existential crisis or conclusion about the inconsequentiality of life. It’s less than that. Maybe more than that?
It’s this nagging feeling that I just don’t want to be here anymore. And all the earth is beautiful and lush and so worth experiencing. There are so many amazing things to learn, to read, to see, breathe and live. But those things exist outside of my existence. Those beautiful things I cannot absorb into my being and as a result, I am forever unhappy. My own existence is not one of those beautiful things that exist on this earth and so it does not belong in it either.
I just don’t want to be here anymore.
Image Credits: COUSIN