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Saturday, August 05, 2006
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was making dinner and feeling so much, but i had to wait till after. no, i'm here.
i can't say today makes me feel so useless, because it's not today. the past 36 hours, what have i been doing? you stopped to ask how things were, what was i doing?
i try to recall the thoughts that were running through my mind minutes ago, and i can't. then i remember blink and the fifth mountain. so paulo made me feel this way, because of what i took away from his writing. what of it? isn't it the truth? shouldn't i thank him for enlightening me in this, on top of the other lessons i've learnt from him or despite him? i don't really know what's gripping me. i just have this wrong, incompetent, infindel feel inside me. like clouded wine.
i've lost everything, and it's somehow still not the bottom. there's more that i know not, and yet i somehow know that it's being taken away from me by myself.
maybe you've never felt that way before. i should be thankful for your sake, and i would have been. but now i'm too preoccupied with my troubles, i've lost perspective of the things that really matter, they're there, in my old mind that hovers before me, but i can't touch it.
i hope u don't understand. and u probably don't, really.
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7:52 pm
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