I've grown tired of writing, but it also seems a shame to let the muscle become emaciated.
A lot has happened in the past two months. Too much to really digest and understand. We've been through a lot so far, haven't we? And there's so much more ahead...theoretically anyway. Life in its violent changes can be very beautiful and painful at the same time, and how many times have I been on the verge of a nervous breakdown and been entranced with the realization that I loved it and loathed it at the same time?
21 years of being a human and I still haven't the slightest idea of what they are.
I guess 21 isn't the sort of age for wisdom anyways, but it is still an uncomfortable feeling.
I'm forgetting things. And there are these lapses in thought or understanding where I fear some sort of mental ailment, but I think I'm just starting to use other parts of the brain more, and then there are the other parts that are being used less.
The experience is more of a glide now. A glide. There is no other way to explain it without images that really couldn't be communicated through a medium anyway. I think others' experiences do share a common-ground, but there are some aspects that differ and there becomes a dramatic change in mode of experience, where someone interprets everything a shade differently than the next person. Oh what it would be to experience those in addition to your own. What revelations would occur? Everything is still so linear with one point of view. Even when entertaining thoughts of relativity and juggling perspectives. There is still a sort of forced linearity. Maybe.
This isn't really going anywhere. But that's how the summer is when you don't have a job and you are not going to school and your mind has a chance to wander and it becomes a little dangerous, and pleasurable.
