I Am The Passenger

Summertime sadness made me rethink, and inevitably, re-FEEL, this post that got my nascient blog started bc WordPress Explore (or whatever) found it in the trenches and promoted it (and with which I, of course, never followed through). I’d like to start it up again. Thanks to all who followed, commented or even just read it the first time. You gave me strength. I hope I can give some back in the near future. Xo, Juliet, not naked, but bug-bitten

Juliet Naked

Iwoke up this morning with a bad case of the blues. I’m not really sure what to write. Depression has her way with me in my sleep and then clings to me like a caul when my eyes open and I have to pretend to be functional.

Things seem OK, then not OK. The tiny tragedies that make me crumble taper off, then return in a full-force gale. I can’t handle some of the basic pressures of being alive. There seems to be no end-game or goal – no purpose – to any of it. We are born. We become instruments of a machine far larger than our minds can comprehend. We reproduce. We die.

We die.

What an impossible burden to place on a species, the consciousness of death. And we, among all of our neighbors on this planet, are alone in our understanding of Death’s inevitability. I’m not…

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