Wrap me in your marrow, stuff me in your bones

I am at an existential blogging crossroads/crisis.  All of the things I've wanted to write about/say in the past, oh, year seem to be too private for the internet.  Every time I sit down to write, I think, no one needs to hear this but me and maybe my therapist.  And some of it I don't even tell him.  Thus, I have not written since last New Year's.  How ironic.  So I thought I would share a bit from my most recent [private] blog, taken from the book of Word--and here's to less melodramatic writing in the new year.

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More and more lately I feel like the world is a place that I am visiting, and there is so much to do on this vacation, but sometimes when we are reckless, we make the mistake of drinking too much, and we sleep the day away, only to wake up and realize that the vacation is almost over, and we haven’t done shit with the beautiful place we were meant to enjoy; we spent way too much money, had way too much “fun,” and in the end we’re left with a bunch of regret as we board the plane home. 

Vacations are only a few days long but sometimes I feel like that’s all we really have.

That's it.  I'm figuring out how to make the most of my vacation.  Without you.

"Put me in your suitcase, let me help you pack, cause you're never comin back, no you're never comin back.  Cook me in your breakfast and put me on your plate, cause you know I taste great, yeah you know I taste great."