Not the brightly lit road to transcendence as advertised. I know that I’ll be thankful for whatever this is, somehow, some day. I’m starting to recognise the patterns that decorate our increasing age, the nature of how events play out. Like looking at a photograph of yourself from five years ago and lamenting “lost” beauty, or brilliance, or innocence. I know I’ll look back five years from now and congratulate whoever I am at the moment for making it out with tenacity and an abundance of hope. Hope as a warrior slaying obstacles, hope as an acceptance of good things inevitably going but doing them anyway. This will be the same for everything so I am thankful for now.
Retrospect would hurt me if I wasn’t careful. I don’t have anything to think about. It’s only 7 days into a new year, nothing has happened to me. But to the world? Loads has happened to her. Honestly have you seen her lately? She’s a fat blue fucking ball of breakdown. Is that mean? I shouldn’t call her fat, she’s doing her best I suppose. But she has got multitudes of shit going on underneath her skin - her atmospheric and dense skin. I imagine what it would be like to be a vessel so airy and light I can leave the ground and not deal with the energies I feel. I feel TIRED.