7/2 – 6:46pm

I have been struck by a sudden, leaden tiredness that is driving me into the grave of my own body. My flesh is the Earth, my bones roots of my spirit, and my blood the water of life, the nourishing force. It is collapsing in on itself as if something were pulled too quickly  from its embrace, crumbling down into the depths of the now empty space. Each grain of my being, soaked with pain, crumbles into the eternal shores of the ocean of death and failure. There is only one place my time can slip away too, and that is the inevitable land of the dead. I exist in this death process as a passenger, one unable to escape the ruinous view of destruction, of degradation, of dying. The pilot of my journey is nebulous circumstance, of which I am a slave. I sink into myself like a shadow stretching into obscurity over the sea. I alone will see the sun set and welcome darkness back into the world.

7/2 – 6:34pm

I am but a single ember of doubt among an ever expanding darkness of oblivion. I am bright by my own standard, the only luminous thing in existence. But when looked at from a distance, I am nothing but but a lonely speck. This oblivion and doubt do not cause me pain, I find comfort in their inevitability. My pain comes from finding the edges of myself.  Where does the skin of my arm end and the wood of this table begin if the atoms that compose both are mostly empty space? Is my own awareness an illusion, a puppet show of chemical reactions? The master of my fate is gravity, electromagnetism, and the forces both weak and small, and it pains me to know that there is nothing at all I can do.

Am I free? Are any of us? Can we be?