My mind is amuck with the events of today. Family interaction, death and infinite farewells, Our is not to reason why? But why? I recognise how different I feel from all of "them". The way in which I could just stand there all alone feeling separate and spare. J cackling her laughter and northern utterances of "eeeeee" in remark of this or that. Mark's internal tremble of loss. People not talking with people because of "what about me?". No tears, endless tears. Stoic little girls, lost little girls, left alone little girls. Mrs niceness, broken-heartedness, incredulous sobs, aged resignation, oddity, chatterings, sandwich munchings, feeble mutterings, drinking, smoking, choking. There's nothing I can say. Grant us wisdom. What is this? Anyone? I am battle weary. Relating and remarking and smiling and crying.
I nearly fell asleep on the way home. I actually would not mind if the last breath was taken but I would not want to take the last breath of another.
Shakespeare's Titus is tragedy upon tragedy and violence and meanness. All of which exists in this world in the name of that's how it is. It is how it is. Here and gone again. There surely is nothing beyond. This is it!
People will have their souls black in the words of Shakespeare. Some will turn to the white light. I do not know. I know nothing. Nothing makes sense. Sense means what?
I am tired. Truly tired. It does seem pointless. I feel too tired to go on, truly. But that is not my choice apparently.
Titus: When will this fearful slumber end?
I send love, love, love.
Bliss
XX
I nearly fell asleep on the way home. I actually would not mind if the last breath was taken but I would not want to take the last breath of another.
Shakespeare's Titus is tragedy upon tragedy and violence and meanness. All of which exists in this world in the name of that's how it is. It is how it is. Here and gone again. There surely is nothing beyond. This is it!
People will have their souls black in the words of Shakespeare. Some will turn to the white light. I do not know. I know nothing. Nothing makes sense. Sense means what?
I am tired. Truly tired. It does seem pointless. I feel too tired to go on, truly. But that is not my choice apparently.
Titus: When will this fearful slumber end?
I send love, love, love.
Bliss
XX
