My general fitness training is going pretty well, not really focused, no direct goal, just overall improvement, which is nice but sort of a beginner mentality. I suppose I need something along a formal commitment and dedicated workout partner. I've neglected strength training, and that really is foundational. I suppose it's a function of my chronic depression, this devotion to neglect.
I would have liked to have had a larger family. Just the one son remains to me. I tried to have others, after a fashion, but that ship sank, and there weren't any survivors. So sad. The experience, I think, ruined me. Even the people I love, I keep at a distance. And I don't love many.
I'm so angry, I'm so filled with rage, suppressed, unrecovered from life's traumas and trials, that I just don't know what to do with myself. Get a massage, I suppose. Eat at a table with people. Play poker. But that's just things to do. I don't understand happiness. Is it supposed to last? I'm so tired of being this teenager. Growing up means letting go. But there's no one who's more loyal, or more stubborn, than I am. Not on purpose. I just can't forget, and I can't violate my conscience. So it's incomprehensible to me, how betrayal is possible. And that's how almost everything ends. In betrayal. Yet I am an optimist.
I write these pathetic self-indulgent mewlings as an attempt to purge. Like bailing out a boat. But as I said, the boat has already sunk. That doesn't mean I'll give up though. As an optimist, I refuse to acknowledge the concept of futility. So I keep stretching my back, bunching my shoulder blades, looking for the ache to go away.