Alone. I still catch myself wondering where this is going to take me and what my actual purpose is in subjecting myself to this type of puzzlement. I feel like I have fallen out of love with the love of my life. I am cursing my disposition of not being able to experience contentment even when the highest chain of mountains surround the bluest lake. I know where my faults lie, and it is within these boundaries that I must resist the compressive stress luring me to slip. It is an understatement to admit that this is not what I had in mind, and I suspect there is something missing; there is something I must have forgotten back home. Today, while viewing the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone, I questioned my inner intentions. I questioned my spirit and dreadfully came to the realization that, as of now, I have no spirit. Lost somewhere in the grip of indecision and false pretenses, my God-given spirit must have retreated to a private resort reserved for the congregating of lost souls. Maybe I’m trying too hard; perhaps there is something in the way. Outside my rented window, the raging river continues to imitate the ocean while I fall victim to thoughts of my detested nest back home.
May 28, 2001