Mad Girl's Love Song
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Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh had gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.
Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh had gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.
Coffee pushes my mood up into a nice manageable state. I used to mistakenly judge others who engaged in behaviors they knew they shouldn’t, but I understand the rationale now. If I had to spend an entire day in the sleep-walking stupor I found myself in later this morning, with negative thoughts continually circling my head, or drink coffee and enjoy my day, I will drink coffee. I understand that it can make swings worse. I do. But I can’t stand feeling the other way, with the urges and urges to do destructive things. This is much better —believe me.
Thursday February 23rd
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