Drawn away. Shall I be redrawn?

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I am so done. I do not need anything new or more or different or hopeful.

It hits me like a stone.

I need my heart. I need my cat. I need priceless food that I prepare.

Same as always.

The essential elements of love.

I can disappear into this.

The illumination is remote and growing dearer. Dear-less.

I am drawn away, not towards, any longer. 

Shall I be redrawn?  Who does that work?  Who is my pen-man?  Where is this drafting table?  Will I find what I need?  Soon?  Soonish?

It makes sense that I’m low. I drank half a bottle of wine two nights ago. Depression rules for 36 hours or more per glass. I should feel happier later today. I hope so!  Now I’m alone again so no desire to drink. So that’s another bit of logic supporting isolation.  I cook less and drink little when alone. 

I needed drugs and alcohol to compensate for the weak attraction and love of my marriage. I needed sexual fantasy to escape the disregard I experienced every day. 

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