Monotonous Existence

Day 513.

Reading is hard.

Concentration; scant.

Accustomed to the weight but now a blockage befalls me.

The futility of life’s order.

Eating, sleeping, bathing is all like watching a boring film, and yet I am that boring film. Just so boring.

Is the boredom, the numb feeling what the seeking of drugs is about? A need to break out of numbness, of the monotony of existence?

I cannot feel Luke… or can I?

I want something to change.

But I don’t want to pass out of my grief, because it’s all I have left of Luke.

How can that be allowed to be his legacy to me?…That all that is left of Luke in my heart is loss?

I am reminded of George’s words on Luke’s Facebook tribute page - that he hopes that we don’t all get lost in the sadness, but that we remember the good of Luke.

Oh, how the words and the thinkings of George continue to inspire.

London seems so far, and yet I should visit soon.

Sitting in Luke’s spot in the ‘stoge' garden, it is too sunny, too hot, too bright. I just want to return to my bed.

The effort is all too great.

Even smoking brings no joy or relief.

Where is my sense of purpose? - buried under a weight of exhaustion.

My life is mapped between the sofa and bed.

I am not good company as I am angry

I just want to go and be with Luke - to be lost with Luke.

It’s boring to me and yet I have no notion of a way out.

Would drugs help? 

Oh Luke! Where are you?