i miss you

 writing is difficult. not that i have nothing to say, quite the opposite, really. the trouble is i currently do not feel at liberty to talk about any of it. i'm keeping secrets, which probably means i ought to make some changes...secrets are fun in theory, but stressful in actuality.

it's been weeks since i've talked with Bestest Friend or Will. they're my confidants, my conscience, my sanity; i'm too easily confused and overwhelmed without them. it's no one's fault, just life and being busy. i asked Will if we could have lunch...either he forgot or was just busy, but it didn't matter because i ended up working all day anyway.

i'm so tired of work. generally, i still love my job. i'd rather work with books than anything else, and i love my coworkers...but customers make me anxious and grouchy, and the pay is terrible. i really need to find something that pays better and offers benefits...but where? i don't have any desire for a career...i have no desire for a job at all...i should have been a mother by now, but i'm seriously doubting that will ever happen. i'm discouraged and exhausted and borderline hopeless at the moment. i know everything will get better. i know it's not as bleak as it feels...i just wish i could fast forward to the better parts and skip over some of the frustration and disappointment.

i miss writing.

i miss Bestest Friend.

i miss Will.

i miss...someone i don't think i've met yet, though i'm not sure exactly who or how to explain that.  i feel so lonely sometimes, though i try not to think about it.
i don't write because to write well, i have to feel it...but i don't want to feel. feeling nothing just seems more functional than feeling what i'm afraid i'll feel if i let the dam release.  i'm so conflicted.

i miss me...