it is pathetic to be 59 years old and feel like a lost child. i want to write about it because i don't know what to say. when i was a child i bottled it up in dreams. i dreamed with animals, and strayed from everything fraught with human grief. but animals don't grieve like this, they grieve with us, because of us, for us. 
now the feeling is we have to get through this, but what is it, and what is getting through. it's more than the past, getting through. it feels like the past is ending without ending, and ending is the present, and all that's left.