I'm not very interested in why. Though I'm sure I have my reasons.
Everyone has their reasons.
But I often feel desperate. It is not a comfortable or comforting feeling. It leads to lonely. Desperate is so non-fun. There are no Desperate Pride parades.
I have paid attention to it for a very long time, longer than some of my friends have been alive. I've done the work. I'm doing the work. The work has dialled it up! Bring it on!! I said so. I asked for it. I got it.
I'm in it.
It feels so useless and I get lost in that too. The uselessness of me. Why feel so much? Why feel this way? Whistle a happy tune. Choose happiness. Do yoga. Eat fruit. Be thankful. I.e. useless, i.e. me = useless, i.e. fuck off.
There is more. There are my children and trees and dogs and Tim Horton's iced cappuccinos and sex and disco and my red velvet shirt. I get those too and good for me that I can.
How can anyone not feel desperate? It feels like such an obvious response to me. But I am always astounded by the invisibility of the obvious. (To me; I know.)
I watched that video, How To Be Alone. It's lovely.
I should make a video entitled, How To Be Desperate. AKA: Sit In Your Shit. I used to hope for a cure but now it feels like my life's work and, if there's one thing I've learned since being born in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, in 1961, work is considered useful. Pretty/prideful or not, useful/useless or not, I'm using my desperation and doing my fucking work.