A dead end...

Yesterday was cold, wet... dreary. I made myself go for a walk. Wool coat, hat, long boots, umbrella... four layers of clothes. Never needed that much before. I get cold now at my advancing age. The wet cold seeps through my fatty tissue right to the bone. It was pithy outside. As I was walking down the street, I could feel sadness welling up in my eyes. I don't know why. But whatever it was, I made it go away. Definitely something wrong to find me weeping in the middle of the sidewalk. These momentary lapses are disconcerting to say the least. In the quiet, cold, alone, stillness of home they are perhaps slightly more understandable, but not at all rationally acceptable.

If my life is empty... if I am empty... it is my own doing, my own inaction. It was my willingness to let things be as they were, but I still believe that that is just the way it was meant to be. I am not one to force things to happen, to be false, or to fake myself into situations. That is not to say that I didn't fit in, or didn't try to assimilate, it was just that in whatever places I was in, very rarely did it feel like it was a place I should be. Sometimes I was ignored, occasionally invisible. I think for the most part, I was fine with that. It seems like a lifetime ago. Heck, it was a lifetime ago, as lifetimes go. In retrospect, was there anything that I would have changed, or could have changed to make my life more complete, more full?  I don't believe so. I honestly don't believe there were any circumstances or situations  that arose with people or events wherein my life would have been drastically changed, or for that matter, even minutely changed. This is part and parcel of why I struggle now. Sure, ultimately it is me... I who have the power to change my life, but what change, and to what end?