Europe 2040

I pledge allegiance to a dream of moving to Europe around 2040. Plans set in motion, maps of Iberian Peninsula to be acquired.

Black cloud lifts and I feel hopeful again.

Winter weatherings

The Old Farmer's Almanac says we'll have a mild winter.

The loner is lonely

I'm awake in the night again, disconnected and bleary. See I never really fit in anywhere, neither belonged nor wanted to anyway. It seemed irrelevant though as most of my life I had to bulldoze through the foul of existence. Extreme living, the reality show for which I didn't sign up.

Read a forum, comment on a blog post, like a pic. That's my extent of connecting with others since I discovered the internet way back in the early 2000s. Firmly on the track to dementia as recent research suggests.

Don't really like people and the feeling is mutual, no doubt. While it's improbable I'll find friends at this stage, sometimes the need to be among my species is strong. Support groups would be best as I enjoy listening to stories. But that means getting out of the apartment and the hermit doesn't like that.

Perhaps an online support group with live video talking/listening? Need to find an affliction. Anxiety, depression, anti-social introversion...

Death

Dad died this past weekend. Too painful to write about his story. RIP.

Anchored

For over a decade I tried pretending this isn't my destination, this isn't my home. Yet it welcomed me twice with sickly hot days and opportune moments to join its light vein.

So I'll stay and ebb with the flow. Truth be told, I feel more like flotsam and jetsam after hurricane Europe. And I'm tired of the never ending schemes to escape, brewing like bitter tea at the back of my head.

I'll eek an existence in the grey citadel by the dying lake. The ocean gawking will have to wait until I'm old. Sounds almost poetic. I'll pack up my aged carcass, move somewhere by the ocean and die on its shores.