Once again, I'm it really sure where I'm going with this. Once again, I should probably wait until I have a couple of beers in me before I write anything. Once again, I'm bored, so I'm going to do this now.

If you've joined me late, I'm clearly insane.

I have the feeling that a part of me must like it, because I keep coming up with new excuses to be this way.

That fact is that, no matter how much I protest, the pain is nearly gone. Whether it's because enough time has passed, or because new evidence has come to light, or because it was stupid from the beginning, it's almost over now. I can feel it leaving me. I can feel myself becoming something again. Not happy. Not even content. I guess I'm just becoming not sad.

Being completely unable to do anything about my problems since this all started, I spend an inordinate amount of time analyzing them. I have a theory as to why I keep coming up with new excuses to be sad. Putting it into words will be the tricky part.

If I'm not sad, then I'm not hoping to become not sad. To become not sad, something should happen. My pain shouldn't just fade away, something should happen that fixes me. Time heals all wounds may be standard words of encouragement, but it just seems like bullshit to me.

Sadness didn't sneak up on me, it exploded all over me. Something happened to make me this way. Is it unreasonable to want something equally dramatic to change things back?

Of course it's unreasonable. But I think it's understandable.

Consider the following:

Once upon a time this wicked witch gave a maiden a poison apple. She ate the apple, and she fell asleep. She slept for twenty years, then she woke up and felt very rested.

Or perhaps this would be more appropriate:

Once upon a time a fair maiden was sealed in a castle tower, she waited at the window for her prince to come and rescue her, but then she got tired of waiting and managed to pick the lock on the door and escape.

Somehow and she lived happily ever after just doesn't seem to fit either story.

If I'm trapped, then a rescue is always possible. As soon as I free myself from this mess I'm in, the chance to be rescued is lost forever.

A part of me is clearly not ready to give up the dream of rescue, so I find walls everywhere I look.

A while ago I decided to start trying to bottle things up. I thought it was so I could seem more like a normal person to those who know me. That's what I thought. Now I think that the reason I'm bottling these feelings up is that they're almost gone. I'm not so much locking them up as I'm clinging to them.