living among the dead

I read something last night that I’d like to share with you. It hit me, it did. And I haven’t recovered. And I’m not sure I will.

I didn't want to end up here you know? No, no. I never wanted to end up here.

Pass me another beer, would you. Thanks.

And I’m aware that I now have a decision to make … Admit that I’ve wasted my life. That I shipwrecked my marriage. That the choices I made that brought me to this desolate place were my own damned fault or … or … or I can continue to dig. What do I mean by dig? Huh. Blame her. Keep searching for what I now know isn’t there.

Where is it … oh, here it is.

“All the ‘great secrets’ under the mountains had turned out to be just empty night: there was nothing more to find out, nothing worth doing, only nasty furtive eating and resentful remembering. He was altogether wretched. He hated the dark, and he hated light more: he hated everything, and the Ring most of all.”