Journal # 11.07.15

I am living between holidays, between pages, between headaches from a screen, between meals, between distances. And probably between relationships, if I ever date again. I'm not sure why I would, though, I guess I used to enjoy suffering with short bursts of pure love. I miss my landlady from Oakland, she lives in Napa Valley now. She always did enjoy wine. I used to be able to wake up and splash cold water on my face and feel okay. That was so long ago I'm surprised I still recall it. Now I'm much happier, but I rarely feel okay, does it make sense?