This is the closest I've ever come to depression. And it's depressing. I sit, letting minutes, hours, days pass by without really making what feels like forward progress. I know time has passed by the length of my hair, the deeper my crow feet wrinkles sink, the gray in my hair. Yet my mind feels like it's stuck in a loop. Replaying memories of time past - what feels like the best moments of my life - and I get sad thinking that new memories won't ever be shared with you again. At least not with you right next to me, ready to display your quick wit and clever commentary. Those early years are buried in some time capsule, waiting to be uncovered or catapulted into space.
I haven't been able to muster up enough energy to write lately. I think of stories to include - adventures to remember, and when I sit down to write them, they disappear into thin air. Poof.
Has any body seen my mojo? It's missing and I want it back!