it's in the dark underbelly of the night that my mind grows sour...
looking at a computer as my only consolation, my only comfort and noting how empty and meaningless my path appears to have become... i type at the computer, hoping to somehow connect with other travelers - both weary and satisfied.
alas! no consolation... no people to converse with... only a cold, hard keyboard in the 2 a.m. silence, louder than a crypt...
part of me desperately wants to quit struggling, to return to old comforts or to draw a final curtain.
Perhaps the best end would be to crawl under the covers and hope that my body's weariness triggers an uneventful sleep; and that dawn will bring the casual companions again, who help distract me from the strange feeling that I'm only being tolerated, at best.
more than likely, though, I will turn on Spotify, and turn on my phone games and retreat into the fantasies that those media dangle before me.
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