i woke up briefly in the early hours to buckets of rain dumping from the sky. i wanted to run outside and stand underneath it, to beg of it to wash me clean and drive away the dirt the film the scum, to wash away the self-loathing, the fear, the anxiety, the sadness, the anger, the mediocrity and the procrastination. but i fell back asleep.
the human condition is a strange one. we are capable of such greatness--both beautiful and terrible--and we are so lonely and needy. sometimes my loneliness sends me into a spin, and then i realize that i am no different than anyone else. loneliness is not a matter of being surrounded or abandoned by other people, it is a story that is made up by the ego. of course we are alone, and of course we are not.
now the sun emerges briefly and the far part of the sky turns much darker then i previously noticed. it is light that makes the darkness so dark! one moment i feel sure of myself--and my path--and invincible. but there is always that dusty corner of pitch, that threatening current waiting to sweep and pull me down away from the sun. but when it does, i can always count on--my strength? fate? the cyclical nature of, well, Nature?--to propel me up towards the surface, towards the light again, bobbing enthusiastically until my next desparate dive.
