I. (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} i_) wrote,@ 2005-01-03 05:02:00 |
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| Current mood: | tired |
random scribbles
Dated 8/12/04 ~ 11:30pm
come here baby, and I'll make room.
I know this place is a mess, but I want you to feel at home.
The bedroom's clean, the sheets are new,
freshly laundered and there's room for two.
Why am I still alone?
I had really gotten dug in on this online journal thing and I really felt like it worked for me and all, but then when uJ went down... Well, things changed. I've managed to find most of the people from uJ that I cared about finding and the entries that I thought were lost have been salvaged, but the sense of community is gone and the sense of connectedness in writing in my online journal isn't the same anymore. I do hope that it'll come back to me, here on IJ.
But, in and of that transition, I have been taking to putting pen to paper more than i used to, scribbling page after page in wirebound notebooks. Sometimes i actually go back through it and read it, sometimes i don't. Mostly, of late, i've been taking the notebook with me to restaurants when i go for late night meals by myself--it keeps me from staring off into space quite so much and it makes me feel less like i'm alone... well, not so much that i feel less like i'm alone as i don't have as much free time to notice how alone i feel.
but there is something i really enjoy about the feel of a good pen on good paper and the smell of ink and seeing my handwriting, bad as it may be, but so distinct (my sister has perfectly neat compulsive handwriting that is completely opposite mine and yet it may be the most similar to mine i've ever seen). i've taken, somewhat, to writing letters, though it still feels strange when i'm doing it. there are also just not that many people to whom i feel like i can meaningfully write and the time to write and send and wait for them to write back and send can be so painfully long sometimes.
From last night's late dinner writings:
There was a fleeting moment in time, a few years ago, when things were so close to perfect--a moment when I was the center of a wonderful group of friends and I was the rock that people could rely on and I was the force that kept things together and stable and all. I miss that. I spent so many years wanting that, waiting for that, and it melted away so quickly.