It's that incomprehensible sadness. And maybe that's just because I'm typing on this laptop I haven't typed on in almost four months. But it feels strange. The keys are different. Nothing has really changed, but everything feels so strange and different. Reading people's writing that I haven't touched in a while. Even going back through my own dark stashes. It's strange. And I miss it.
I'm sorry that it's all I can say. But I miss it. So I know, I should just shut up, and leave it here, and give up, and let it go. But I can't. I should just leave this here. Just stop writing. And maybe then it would be a touching and emotional post about some deep and bitter sadness that I'm pretending to understand. But let's cut the crap. I don't understand it. And I'm being pathetic. And writing about nothing.
Nobody reads this anymore. And those who do have nothing to say. I think that says something about the quality of the writing on here. I've watched the trendline that indicates my readership plunging over the past six months. And while I can pretend that I don't care, I actually do. Because this blog meant something to me. It actually meant a lot. Even though it doesn't mean as much anymore, it still makes me sad that nobody has anything to say because that means that I'm out of interesting things and it means that nobody cares.
I know it's not true. That doesn't change the feeling. This is a bad post. It's full of half-formed thoughts and poorly expressed emotions. Worse than that, it's filled with more of that angst. I guess I find it back eventually, no matter where I go. I wish I wrote the way I did then, I wish I knew how to feel that deeply. But wishing isn't going to do anything. So I just want to go home now. I miss it. That's all. No fanfare. Just me.
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