Reason to be

I do my best writing when I am either in love, or have a Muse. Right now I am floundering.

I thought I had perfected the art of living for me, of knowing what made me happy, what made me flourish, but none of those things are working for me anymore. 

Once more the people closest to me have moved far away and I can start over looking for my place in this city or not. I'm just not sure I have the energy or desire to do that anymore. My dad once told me that people die when they are tired of living. I think I'm tired of living.

I am grateful for the things I have. I guess I can live without the things I have lost. I am doing everything they say to do if you are feeling sad. I paint. I write. I walk in the park. I play my keyboard, but without someone to share these things with, they become meaningless after a while. I talk to my son and Bestest nearly every day and often my sister and my brother too. I just lack meaning in my life. I'm even raising a flowering plant and I will admit it brings me great joy to see it and care for it, but not enough to change my life.

I have no complaints. I just have no reason to be that makes me feel happy or whole.