I have enough memories
as though I lived for a thousand years. I didn't say that, Baudelaire did. And I'm tired. So tired. Tired of fighting myself for the life I want to live. And in a lot of important respects, I've sacrificed this life completely. My own choices, yes. My own consequences, yes. All of that is given. Yet, I'm tired. I spent so many years being afraid of trying to succeed and now that I'm motivated, it's nearly impossible. I'm so much less afraid, but too tired. I don't cry when I'm sad anymore. I've come to anticipate loss and failure, and that's just pathetic. There's so little time ahead. I feel it creeping on. Not always, but right now.
I have empathy, but no sympathy. It's the age we live in. The post-post-modern age of nothing. Nihilism. Nothing actually matters anymore.
I used to want to be immortal. I feel like I'm experiencing that because I've lost everything times over. Again, yes, my own actions, my own choices. I accept that. Doesn't discount the feeling, though. I'm not making excuses . . . or am I? I'm not confident anymore.
I've written some music. I've finished two plays. But what do I do with them? Nothing.
I'm so tired.