once upon a time a raging river gradually followed its course to a miserable wallowing of a stream. a (not)lonely stream, streaming alone. though you get the general idea that life's happening somewhere else and obviously without you, but still the mere trickle that exists is enough to satisfy you and your thirst, whether its a subconscious one or not.

and what is there left to say except the tired refrain, sorry. but the worst (ignore the negativity of that word) part is that you aren't sure anybody cares anyway and one day when it matters, as it will, you know it's going to hit you so hard like a ton of bloody bricks that life's going to be even worse (triple in the negative) than you know it can be. taking a leave of absence once in a while is justified, but biting off a whole chunk simply because i feel like it seems too wantonly selfish to try and explain.
took this off my friend's blog.
thought it aptly describe what i am feeling.