Meh.

I'm at a certain point where I have only one viable option: sleep. I've read all of the books in my house that I actually want to read. I've decided to never again play another video game. I don't feel like sitting at the computer for another four hours. I rather feel like going out and killing someone. Not really violent, but sort of disgusted. If there was something for me to scoff at, I would, but I just don't have the energy. So I'll slumber.

. . .

But it doesn't feel right. I feel like there's something incredibly important that I could do right now. Malaise. I need some sleep.

Wow. I just saw, for the first time, my shadow.

I used to think that my shadow, my inner side, was the reflection of the evil in me. My hate, anger, greed. But, surprise, I was wrong. It wasn't any of that.

All the hurt, all the pain, the big wounded spot I have, that's my shadow. I deny all of my pain. To be strong, you have to shrug off pain, right? But now, I think it's dawned on me. The pain doesn't really go away. It collects in all the crevices, sharpens the rough edges. I never wanted to say this, but I am damaged. It's what's causing my insanity.

Hmm . . .

I don't think I'll write anything for a while.

I've had a lot of dreams about trains. Maybe it's all the times I've nodded off on a train. Whenever I get on a train while dreaming, I seem to be late. I lose track of time, I get on the wrong train. It's hard to get on the right train when you don't know where you're going. I never do know, and apparently I'm never going anywhere, although I do become quite concerned at my tardiness. Then it gets late, the sky gets dark, and I know I'll have hell to pay when I get home. Once, this train was on rollercoaster tracks. In a prairie area. It seemed beautiful and sad at the time.

I wonder if all my problems stem from my not belonging. I have never felt in comfortable in any place I've been, role I've played. I was never quite able to admit that I didn't belong because I never wanted to admit that I might yearn to find an appropriate place. Maybe that's why people go on journeys. They know that they don't belong where they are and that the longer they stay, the less they will be able to distinguish the feeling. When I was younger, I didn't want to wish to belong because I didn't want a life set in one place, one role. But I was/am always in no place, no role. What I've got to ask is: which choice is better?

The future contains potential. Potential is like dark matter: it is said to be present everywhere, yet is nigh-impossible to observe and even harder to interact with. I think, maybe . . . potential is a great limiting force. Perceiving the world as a hodgepodge of the potential things that you can do or become severely limits me. I have no idea how to use my potential, so my first desire is to conserve potential, to keep all options open. This leads to a path where I do very little, as any large action destroys the potential to later do other things. I'm hamstrung. Strange ideas have overtaken my mind concerning what to do with the future. It's not the plan I had in mind, but I really didn't have a plan.