Wake every morning with a choice: to lose myself in the minutes or to count them.


What we must assume:

1. that we grow with time and not shrivel, that all movement is good, that all knowledge is good, that all the roads lead forward, that they are working for and not against us.

2. Pleasure as something worth pursuing, that not all pleasure is in the present, that there is a kind of pleasure you can feel even after you have left, in a sort of echo: immortal remembrance as a gift.

3. That there is something inherent in us, something stable and unchanging, warm and old as the universe, and that in this word, it is the truth and not our own ignorance that has woven the world into a symphony.


I forget old diseases and gather new ones. When my gut hurts, an ache so deep that I can’t be sure whether it is in the bone or in my mind, I am surprised. I wake to vague pains. Then record them. I keep my diaries, but never read them.


Sometimes, I wish I could not see myself. I do not want this terrible power.


Photo by Kunj Parekh on Unsplash


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