I suppose there are small markers along the way--so I know that I'm making progress, improving. Some days, like yesterday, I feel like I'm making the most of my time here--that it's not a waste of my money, time, and all the anxiety that comes with worrying about money and not having any time.
My mantra of how it takes a toll. Overall, things have been more even, which is a relief.
The indefatigable stress of other things--conditioned things, and responsibilities, or those perceived--I can never shake them. I wish I could go to Greece again. Even just for a week. I doubt I've ever have that luxury again.
No, I'm not lonely. But I'm hungry. I want more of everything, and it's so apparent to me how few and less of things I can have, do--anything, anything.
Even my words here fail. Crude carving words attempting to pinpoint the feeling. The space.
I try to find relief in what comes ahead. Newer failures, and maybe, Vegas.
There is only ever momentary relief.
