I tried to remember a time when I didn’t feel as I do now. If I take me today and compare myself with me from yesterday I feel the same. If I take myself from yesterday and think about myself from the day before that there is still no difference. To continue on back more and more for days and days I still don’t make any distinction. Reading over things from a year ago this month however I was different. My text, my language, my commas, my breaths and pauses, all different. Reading over old things from a bit more than a year ago maybe I do see some parallels in inner status, in self, in mind-workings, in withheld breaths.
I might go as far as to say that I am happy with where I am despite day to day thoughts that I think I’m not. I also know that I don’t need to restructure perception. There is an austere sort of hedonism to my life, a self-afflicted austerity that really just stems from a lack. Always coming back to the lack. But I don’t feel the lack in myself anymore more just with my surroundings. There are things to fill the space, the time, the breaths, but the guard is set and I’m too intimidated to break it down. I take it back actually, it’s not austerity but rather it’s withholding. I have to withhold or else gravity will take over and I will fall as he falls over and over again.
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