Dear Liza

There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza. Yep, the one that I pour my heart out in every day. And it's giving me a hole in my stomach and one in my actual heart and making me wish I could have one in my head too. It just occured to me that my contentedness of early summer has not only waned, but disappeared entirely. While I may be able to put a brave face on things and generally act like I'm not bothered, I see clouds and rain everywhere. My phone determines the weather.

So I pour myself out till I'm empty into a broken cup. This other that doesn't know, or at least forgets. I need a serious brainwashing. Maybe I should join the military. I need the tabula rasa and how. I thought I was going somewhere but I really went backwards. I wish I could remember the name of the guy who was forced to roll the rock to the top of the hill for all eternity. Prometheus comes to mind, but I know that's not the guy. Anyway, it seems like I am that guy. Every time I think I'm getting somewhere, things get rough and I have to start all over. I think I've come up with a new plan that is going to work this time and it, of course, backfires in the worst way. I am the Wile E. Coyote to his Roadrunner. I know I'm fucked up when I start comparing myself to cartoon characters. But I always did feel kind of sorry for poor ol' Wile E.

So, here is my bottomless pit of despair. Of god I hate myself-ness. Because I already gave the good stuff to someone and got rid of the rest.