Day Number 13

I haven't plucked my eyebrows in a week. When Terry does get home, I'll look like Charlton Heston. Or worse, I envision my arms becoming 6 inches longer and ambling through the timber smeared with mud to keep the ticks and chiggers at bay… in search of primal sustenance.

Once, my hopes and dreams were my sustenance … I would nurture them and grow them and they would bring forth fruit…they fed me, they hydrated me. I have entered another barren time in my life's journey… the soil for my dreams is sallow … the environment harsh drying hopes to dust. My only sense of connection is my husband. And now, I sit alone for even he is gone…I have been alone for 18,720 minutes, but who's counting. (me) If I remain sane, there'll be a shift ... the key is to remain sane.

But, I think I've gone past my limit of being alone. I can see why a recluse goes mad...I'm feeling that madness slip into my brain...a spiraling madness that comes from such a vacuous existence … my sense of purpose seems to be growing dim or I wonder, did I ever have a purpose. Surely I did ... my memories are vague, though. It seems I used to find joy in helping people find something new and exciting in themselves ... I think that is my essence ... God, it's like ."...where have all the flowers gone..." ?

My task today was to take out the garbage…now it’s done…what is there to the rest of the day? I watch the second hand make its way around the face of the clock … time is an interesting concept in infinity … I am aware of each present moment … they fade one by one like marching soldiers … leaving ghostlike footprints … little illusions that used to be the present… the past is merely a reflective void … nothing, nothing, nothing ... like the rhythm of the second hand…. 5,976 minutes until there is someone to share life with … nothing, nothing, nothing … except for the overuse of the ellipsis ...there's nothing, nothing, nothing ...