A Life Of Dying

It is a melancholy that occupies me these days, my friend with no name. I feel a kind of dying inside. It is not the existential kind, with hints that its way of being is not truly dying. It is an actual dying. A significant portion of my life has been given to a more conventional mode, a situation that must be remedied. And it is finances that have brought me to this point. Do not mistake my meaning; my finances are healthy, never before have they been so good, but that life I had must return, even without so much financial security, otherwise there will be nothing remaining, except the effort to continue without reflection.

I will not bore you with the details, but know that I cannot continue on this path. It is too simple, not thoughtful enough. I need my life to return to some semblance of what it had been.