spending these days alone by choice, there are times that i can actually feel myself getting older. when i have free time, i don't want to do anything, as there isn't one ounce of energy left in me to do anything but hold a book to read. and i wonder if i'm letting everything pass me by because i'm not using what little free time i have, to its advantage. we are born to die, and i'm no different than anyone else. i just don't understand why i'm not seeing things and doing things and enjoying life the way someone my age should be. but it's fulfilling to sit down for the first time in days, to play video games by myself and read and knit and type all this nonsense babble. there's so little that i've done this week, and what has been done, that i wish i could elaborate more on, i don't. memories begin to fade when i don't record them, and by the time i get a chance to sit down and write them all out, the bulk of everything seems to have dwindled down to nothing but something that was fun...

i see how things are awkward now, how we look at each other through the same eyes, but no longer can we see inside. it's as if there is a concrete wall between us. maybe one day it will be broken down and communication will resume as normal. i'm in no position to force anything. things will take their course as planned.