What’s left of me, what’s left of me now….


I have to laugh.  I’ve been “blogging” – as it were – for over 10 years.  Less people care now  than back then. I connected with a fair number of folks who seemingly understood me.  The vast majority of them have faded away.  “Real Life” eventually got in the way, and I drifted from my writings.  Now I am spending more time alone than ever.  More time to think.  More time to dwell.  More time to obsess.

Now, I just write to get it out.  To make more room in the ever-overflowing me for more depressive regurgitation.



I feel no guilt because I no longer feel invested.  When true intentions (or lack thereof) come to light, it’s like a vacuum.   Sucking the innocence out like dust.  I’d rather spend my time alone.  Too much energy expended on pretending is not healthy.  Wrapping myself in a blanket, protecting myself from the world sounds smarter.

Watching nothing but MTVJams all day has taught me that there are still some very excellent rappers out there – talented with words, witty, clever, etc.  And then there are some that are just TERRIBLE.


Another night, but the same couch.  Same dinner I eat most nights.  Same pattern of —  eat, watch reruns of SVU, take some meds, go to sleep.  I’m starting to prefer this way of life versus human interaction.  I suppose it’s no surprise.  People are annoying, flawed, and will ultimately let you down.  I can be as self-centered as the rest of them, you know.  I just choose to do it in solitary.  The world can revolve around you…when you’re the only one in it.

About meredithelaine

forty-something. jersey girl in texas via california.
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