Why I left, and may leave again...
I really have a love-hate relationship with this place, this journal. I have to wonder at times why I continue to do it. The things I write here are sometimes deeply embarassing to me afterwards (like the entry from last Monday), or just seem stupid or self-indulgent. Maybe this has just been a bad week---actually, there's no maybe about it, every day since Monday has gotten progressively worse. Deleting this journal did nothing to address the real problem, perhaps because I am not sure what the "real problem" is... or, not exactly. Yesterday, walking in the heat to go meet a friend for lunch, feeling rushed, hot, disgruntled (about what I am not certain), I flashed back to May of '05, when things started going downhill. I felt the same way: hot, frustrated, ill-tempered, at-my-wits-end. I do not want a return to that, or a return of that.
I know that a big part of my frustration has to do with not writing---and it is not that I am blocked, far from it, I just have ideas I do not know how to express. Perhaps that is worse, I don't know.
As far as this journal is concerned... I know that it has helped me in the past. But, it is always a matter of reciprocity. I read what you write, and you read what I write, and we communicate in whatever way we can. I am far behind in reading all of your journals, far behind in the events of your lives, and I am sorry about that. Tell me some stories, let me know that you are still out there, still writing, still living as best you can. I am thinking of you... so many of you, in so many places. I am wondering how you are, and hoping you are well.
Good night.