Once upon a time

I want to write a lengthy entry about my day... seeing the creepy Easter bunny, animating Chi, laughing and laughing with Katherine, shouting "I LOVE YOU," relaying my nationality to people and then listening to their curiously awkward relations to the Asian race (my daughter married a Chinese man...ect.) and follow-up clumsy compliments, the happiness of seeing old friends and belonging again, a return to normalcy even for just three hours. But I don't really feel like it. I'm tired.

I have so many things to do and my limbs are itchy and aching to be free from fabric and wear shorts and summer dresses again. But really, I don't want to do anything and for no discernible reason I'm feeling listless and lost again. How to convey this 'lost' feeling is something I could never do with words though. Even admitting to it seems embarrassing and almost immediately preempts a feeling of regret, had this journal been a public tool. I feel like a mass lump of fat with nothing to look forward to but atrophy. I always wonder why nothing makes me happy, worried, particularly angry or sad.
Hearing the world might end in 2012 seems more relieving than apocalyptic and even though I'm pretty sure it won't happen, I can't say I would mind it. The idea of aging makes me depressed. I think about how everyone I cared for a year ago, two years, five years ..they all stayed stationary as I swung forward, clinging and swinging through the grid-lines of the calendar from month to month and left them all behind in the respective time we were once both important to each other.