Who comforts you?

or what comforts you? i suppose that works as well. but i look for whos when i'm in/at a crux. the 'gift from the sea' book tells me that we are all alone, and we'd probably be happier for it if we could all just accept it as the way it is, the singularity of our experiences makes us part of a larger whole of experience, the familiarity as we look at each other is the thing, dig? assume the familiarity position.

i still seek comfort from others when i feel like this, this midwinter blue in themiddle of wildly humid summer, this feeling of blank in the eyes. . . maybe i'm just not evolved enough.  i want the right words of comfort, the hot cup of tea with sugar and milk, the hold, the right action, even a shoulder grab... it is crushing when it isn't there, sometimes. but it goes back to previous conversation about allowing that things have changed, do change, are changed from what we think/remember them to be.  and nobody knows what the hell the 'right' is- is doing, where its going...

(insert undeniable jokes, the right is so far right these days, its left, etc, etc... )

I think there is part of me that still holds on to the illusions of pre-adult romanticism, where there is an undeniable lust for the unobtainable... maybe it is a denial of what IS obtainable, because it is frightening... ?

-but honestly, i think i'm just too practical for that pre-teen stuff now.  I choose 'practical' lightly, and wonder if, in fact, it is correct. what loss, the hope of those early days? the naivete which allows for all that possibility and yearning...

-once i wrote an extra credit paper for a philosophy class and showed it to a philosopher friend and he said, 'but. it doesn't say anything, actually. ' and i said, 'exactly'.

i didn't get much extra credit for it, as i recall, i think it was a fairly shite piece of work.  not a natural philosopher, you see. it shows here, today, twenty years or so later. . . oh hell.

i'm too tired today.

what makes it all better? this struggle we all have to get out of our own way ?