My reviewing is a week old and it’s harder than I imagined it would be. The few comments I’ve received directly and indirectly have been positive, so that’s something. And I haven’t gotten any nastygrams.
But I’m feeling a bit depressed about the whole thing. It’s hard to feel that such an effort matters. Of course it doesn’t matter. I want it to matter. It doesn’t. I want it to. It doesn’t.
Some days, poetry fills me up. Other days, I’m so hollow and brittle I’m like a burst milkpod.
How do I make it matter? How do I matter?
I don’t think you intended that as poetry, but it struck me as poetry.
Isn’t that what we all want — to matter?
You matter.
You know the right things to say. Thanks for being in my life, Denise.
I think the second question is the same as the first.
Hey, Glenn. So it matters if I matter, and vice versa? Yeah, maybe.