(In little rages of unprovoked fury, I decide things like: "We'll be a lot happier if we're just plain old miserable, right? Misery is straightforward!"*)
I've been feeling like an astronaut who wandered off on a moonwalk and never quite made it back to the ship. The only thing I can hear is my own heartbeat and the depletion of my air supply. I keep thinking that maybe if I walk in a perfectly straight line, I'll eventually circumscribe the universe and end up back where I started, but with a lifetime of space dust on my suit. Maybe by then we'll have forgotten what the big deal was.
The unfathomable quality of the universe has made me into my own universe of skeleton and muscle and bone. I had no problem with that a week ago, but suddenly everything seems terribly small and lonely.
*Maybe. But I sure as hell can't tell the difference now.