the world of my home has diminished even unto a snowball in bonfire.
but i will think of that tomorrow.
today i will meditate on how things shrink. how the once important people suddenly look…not that important. or how duty and responsibility kick in, without even giving one some time to get adjusted.
do i exist outside this frame of reference, this continuum of memories, traumas, imagery of non-existence and lack of trust and peace? if i do, where is it that i exist? and why has nobody told me about it?
yeah, this might have been a ‘dear diary’ type of post, had i had a ‘dear diary’. but i do not. so. let it be a ‘here we go, scrapbook’ kind of post. or similar.
here we go, scrapbook. i etch these thought-feelings on the margins of my (?) life.