Failure was always an option! I don’t know where the month went. I was waiting so much of the month, for something new to happen or to emerge from somewhere. And here, locked in to quiet of my room, nothing much happened at all. I feel a great sense of loss for the month that never began. I never quite seemed to find the right way to approach the days, and so many of them I spent sleeping… long indulgent sleeps. Were they brought on my depression, loneliness, laziness, seemingly chronic infections? I can’t rule any one of those things out I suppose. It’s everything. The weight of endings.
I think I’ve started to let go of the expectations I had of myself, but in doing so I find that the future is scary when it doesn’t come with those expectations. What do you mean by “I can do anything I want…”? Can I, though. What is all of this?
I’ve spent a few weeks now going through Mom’s 1968 diary, researching the references as I go, to try and understand Mom at 14. And that’s a bizarre thing to expect; I don’t understand myself at 14. How can I possibly understand her. Maybe I should pull out my own 14 year old writings, compare them to hers. It is only logical that the things going through my own mind would be similar to what might be going through hers. People are fundamentally the same over time. What terrible things would I discover about her? About myself? Maybe nothing. Maybe I’ll find nothing more than the innocent musings of childhood by two people who are not yet fully realized.
It’s so odd and arbitrary how we demarcate our lives with calendar months, but it still feels like a dawn is coming and the new month washes us clean of the old. It’s all just random nonsense, but I feel it so deeply. I hope this next period is fruitful. I love feeling alive, productive, busy. The routines I once cherished have unravelled, but I could start again; start to weave them back together until I find something new to gird my days.
To May, and to hopeful tomorrows.
30 April 2026 10:30 p.m. 57ºF/14ºC (cloudy)
