Aimless

I remembered to pick up cat food this morning. Then I spent about an hour on lawn care. I showered, did laundry, and worked a little more on decorating the house. I didn't put in a full day's work, but at least I didn't waste the day.

In some ways, I now have the life I've dreamed of for years. I have less debt than I've had in thirty years. I have a big house full of cool toys. I'm a (self) published author, with eight books on the kindle store, and who cares if they sell. Younger me would be looking at older me in awe.

So why am I wandering aimlessly around the house, not sure what I want to do next, unable to focus on anything, and occasionally breaking down in tears?

That's a rhetorical question, of course. We both know why. The real question is, "Why did I finally get the life I wanted, only for fate to betray me?" I mean, this is some Twilight Zone bullshit.

She did not deserve to die. I'm no fool; I know fate is unkind. As much as we love to believe in karma, the truth is that this is an unfair world. It rains on the just and the unjust. You can deluge me with feel-good stories of fate rewarding good behavior, or jerks getting what they deserve, but that's just cherry-picking data. Most of the time, fate is random.

Supposedly, the seven stages of grief are: shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing, and acceptance. I could not tell you which I'm in right now, and I've randomly experienced at least three of them every day this month. Every day it's a different grief sampler.

But most of the time I just feel numb. I don't have the emotional energy to write, and video games don't bring me the joy they used to. I still spend a lot of time watching YouTube, more staring at it than actually watching. KJ might have passed away, but it feels like I'm the one haunting the house.