And the pain looks more to fear. Perhaps, more accurately, the voltage. Or the wait: go up and down waiting for something to happen. Gives life a sense of perpetual transience. To what end to start something? Not worth it. I can not sit still. Yawn, tinker, smoke too much. Before I always had too little time. Now there is nothing but time. Time almost pure, empty sequence.
CS Lewis, A Grief
go up and down waiting for something to happen.
Yeah. Something.
What I do not, however, is still unclear.
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