“And you tell yourself what you want to hear / ’cause you have to believe”

“this will be my year.”

My plans have fallen off-track somewhere.  I’m not writing nearly as much as I’d like to.  Oh, I’m sleeping.  And eating.  And gaining weight.  None of these were goals.

I have reached the half-way point of my year of giving generously, though.  So far this year I have donated to Cancer for College, Tailored for Education, We Can Be Heroes, The American Cancer Society, Habitat for Humanity, and the Red Cross.  It feels pretty good.

Otherwise, I’m zombiesque.  My feelings have receded to God Knows Where and I merely function.  Not sad, not happy, not anything.  I don’t know what I need.

Eh.

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About ericmcclanahan

I am completely average in every way. Average height, average weight, average intelligence, average ethnicity, average American standard of mental illness. Hell, I think I might even be average-aged. I am exceptionally average, and I lead an average life. Why, then, am I incapable of seeing it as anything other than a Fractured Fable of unlimited beauty and horror playing out before me?
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