I am simply without words.
Or perhaps not without expression so much as without volition. I get absorbed into the juggling act that makes up my days, and I just don't know which scenes I'd like to share.
When things go badly, I feel bad, and when things go well, sometimes, I feel bad then too. Afraid of things being too good. Afraid of being unkind. I wish that it was possible for everybody to be doing well at the same time.
At least sometimes.
But I know it's not. Among my friends I certainly notice the wide variations in our days and in the things occupying our lives. I keep a busy social schedule because my friendships are so important to me. That, along with work, tends to keep me away from indulging in just-because writing too often.
Just had coffee with one friend. Had dinner with another Tuesday. Had a party last Friday. Hosting a dinner this Friday. I love that so many wonderful people want to share a part of their lives with me. It's an honor when friends seek me out, and I'll often reschedule my time to be available for them.
Those sometimes are often for me.
In my head, other sometimes are my constant companion. The pasts I've had, the futures I might be going towards. The present that runs concurrently with this one, where my life is very different from my life today. All the sometimes in the world, all gathered together.
Sometimes, I have no words for it all.