I have chosen once again to indulge in solitude for a while. I have chosen to reflect upon my life, and delve into the literary work of others who have also experienced existential despair. There are thoughts that once again plague my mind, of which I do not care to elucidate. In this past week I have finished reading The Myth of Sisyphus, as well as The Hour of the Star. I have also added some additional chapters to my book. The latter has provided me with great insight, yet some things remain nebulous. What I feel at the moment is a bit incomprehensible. Words are superfluous, what I feel is what matters most. Though I continue to chronicle the events and thoughts that run parallel to my existence in my journal, there is still a hunger that resides within me.
For what? I am not certain.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
"This diary is my kief, hashish, and opium pipe. This is my drug and my vice."
~Anais Nin
