From Diary, 1997

<p>The ocean crashes and tumbles ashore, angry, restless with itself. I know how the ocean feels. I don&rsquo;t think any man has ever lived and been loved more but neither has this man been so misunderstood.</p> <p>Hear me, see me, touch me even, but I&rsquo;m not here. I may as well be dead but of course, I&rsquo;m not. I&rsquo;m just a man living with all a man&rsquo;s faults and some extra besides. The lies: the circle of stories to make me feel better and less to blame. The insensitivity of living this way.</p> <p>Sometimes I think I&rsquo;m done, I&rsquo;m over the idea that one day you&rsquo;ll step from an Alitalia flight. So, instead, I write to a woman out there; a presence who understands me, wants to help me, love me, hold me, but she is not real, of course, she is not there, but still I write, hoping.</p> <p><a href="https://medium.com/illumination/from-diary-1997-a52cb050c946"><strong>Website</strong></a></p>
Tags: Diary