8.26.2002 :::
 
I sit, staring at my ceiling fan's reflection in a dirty mirror. My thoughts wander in one place, tracing endless circles. I wonder if the fan blades ever feel trapped. Do they, like me, ever tire of tracing the same pattern, walking the same road, spiraling into meaningless infinity? Are they content in stirring the stale air of my small apartment, or do they ever long to be something else? I suppose even their enslavement serves a purpose. My thoughts endlessly revolve around her, but they do no good.

I thought of her as I drove home tonight. I thought of how much she would have enjoyed the ride. Watching the lightning dance across the sky through the thousand raindrops on my windshield, listening to the music of the rain mingle with the bass rumble of distant thunder. If only I could have shared the wonder of it all with her.

::: posted by Peter at 23:41

8.25.2002 :::
 
I did not realize how directly one's physiological well-being is connected to the spiritual. My body is starting to react to the complete lack of vitality I feel in my spirit: it is slowly shutting down. I have begun to experience noticable breathing difficulties. It is as if my body is forgetting to breathe. In addition, I find myself eating less. I have only eaten one meal a day for the past few days. I suppose I should be concerned about such developments, but when one does not care about life, why should he care about losing it?

::: posted by Peter at 18:15