1:38 AM, Saturday morning. Dawn opens up in a slow, slow blink. Flicking from darkness to wan light in a moment that is so easily lost to the eye...
I’m drunk -- I admit it. This is (I’m afraid) verbosity under the influence.
I spent time tonight. With friends. And I’m thinking now about what "friend" means to me. I’ve been told that I am loved, that I am special. Telling is easy, I think. You can say anything to a person, pour out words that, in the end, mean nothing. There are people. There are women who have told me I mean something to them. But I don’t see it. I don’t see their meanings.
As cliched as it sounds: actions speak louder. Speak volumes.
Anyway, sorry about the self-involved angst-fest. What can I say? I’m in my cups and feeling sorry for myself. I suppose it really is only my own fault. If I were a better person I’d be living a better life. Ah well... All I can say is that I’m trying.
And I’ll never try to make you feel like this, like I feel now. Maybe that’s something worthwhile...
(Thanks for letting me vent. The next entry will be better...)
--- JWR, 2/12/00
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