Day 2

Of late, the success of my life can be measured quantitatively. The quality of a day is almost entirely inversely proportional to the quantity of Xanax consumed during said day. By that relationship, today was one half. It was not an emotionally successful day, nor was it emotionally satisfying. It was draining and tear-filled and exhausting.

The said, the work is still rewarding, and that part of the day was rather pleasant. There was a long block of boredom, and I worry what I will do with myself during these stretches in the future. Having no internet access is bothersome in moments of boredom, but perhaps soon we will have bookmobile projects on which to spend our time.

I am sorrowful at the close of today, and I am finding it difficult to work up the strength for another day tomorrow. I must not avoid exercising tomorrow morning, as I think that might be the only thing that will keep me sane, and by evening, my heart is too heavy to jog, much less do actual exercise.

I do have a beautiful quartet of roses waiting for me in the morning, though. They are my favorite, the ones I think of as French antique, a beautiful butter shade streaking into sunrise hues at the top. I hold onto the little things, believing that enough tiny moments of joy can tip the scales on a whole lifetime.

An acquaintance recently told me that he believes moments of deja vu are signs that our life is progressing along as it should, that we were meant to be on that exact path at that exact moment and we made it. I find this to be a deeply comforting thought, though I don't recall the last time I experienced deja vu. Perhaps it is time I find my way back to the right path.