War Without End
And then that didn't seem good, either.
But I woke up, and things changed.
I had a wonderful discussion (two actually) last night via e-mail and phone. I was not in the best of moods, but these people helped out. This led to a dream about something I had been contemplating for some time, but wasn't sure of how it would pan out. I'm still not sure, but I don't really care. In for a penny, in for a pound.
I woke up from this rather pleasant dream in a load of pain and in a bad mood. I'm not sure why the bad mood came. It may have had something to do with the dream and the logistics. Either way, it was not a good way to start the day.
Which brings us here.
This will continue. This will be an outlet of rage. A forum for these little problems that come along in life that can't be solved with a gun. It's a good form of therapy, and a lot safer than kicking someone in the teeth (but a lot less fun). Of course, there are always willing bodies ready to feed off the rage. A mutual discourse in violence is an interesting way to spend the evening.
I'm tempted to take a pill a call it a day. My Mondays through Fridays have been less than hopeful, and while I'm in the same boat as a lot of other people, I have been struggling to keep the mask on. A little more slips away each day, and that's okay. I'm liking it. I am at peace with the idea, though sometimes I am a bit enraged by it.
A war without end. A pathetic grasp at keeping a normal life.
The days are getting shorter. Like my patience. The time has come. The center of the universe, where the Black Sun burns bright, beckons. Where is the flesh?