the patron saint of lost causes...

it seems the rainy season has started back up in orlando. for the past week it's rained every day, starting around two in the afternoon, generally.
and it will continue for however long it wishes. it tends to bog a person down after a few months, but i appreciate the beginning of it all.
a melancholic washing of the land every afternoon.

i have this tremendous pressure coming at me from all angles, at all times. the nights i do sleep i've found the pressure creeping into bed with me, twisting its fingers around my skull. when i wake up, i feel i haven't even been sleeping, it's like someone else has been using my body those few short hours i blacked out. my shoulders are tight, muscles slightly aching, generally drenched in sweat like never before. somebody told me once i probably had someone else living inside of me, seemed like a plausible notion, but that was years ago... wouldn't i know by now?
i think so.

i don't recall dreams, if i have them. i can't remember the last dream i had.
it's been well over two years since i've remembered one.

told an old friend the other night i've felt blank, empty, it's why i hadn't written anything on this in a long while. while i do this, it still feels that way, as i sit here struggling to put some damn words down. in the past the words helped, we've come across writers block or what have you of course, but eventually the words pull you back up. back into something you're familiar with.
but this... this is like hell.

all i can think of is a woman in sarasota from years ago, before i moved to orlando. i was at a celebratory dinner with my parents and at one point i went outside by myself. as i sat outside this woman passing by told me i had the most empty eyes she'd ever seen.
"they aren't even filled with pain," she said.
"just, empty. like a corpse," she said. worse than any dead persons even, and she wished there was something she could do to help me. she seemed sincere.
"but how do you save a lost cause?"