Dry eye

It's almost six am. I'm thinking of all of the departed: about my dad John, my father in law Alberto, my brother in law Gabe, and the shih tzus, Frodo and Chewbacca. Life is fleeting. It's short. It goes by so quick.

Sometimes, and maybe everyone isn't like this, I need to distract myself with things. Television, games, substances, even writing, just to quiet the barrage in my brain. My brain never stops. I feel as if it's a constant stream of consciousness.

What works best is writing. But I can't live my life only on the page, so I manage. It's not debilitating at all some might say. I'm pretty productive. I manage a full time job which keeps the thoughts at bay. I'm fine when I'm busy. It's when I'm forced to sit with myself that I can't. 

I want to get there. I do. Really I do. I know that if I'm able to sit with myself, I can be with others more presently. 

Yesterday, my eyes were burning. I know it's partially dry eye. I have drops. But perhaps I also need to cry. For everyone I've lost, for the state the world is in, and for my inability to sit with myself. Because maybe if I can cry about it, I can eventually fix it. 

And that would be epic.