Reading, after a certain age, diverts the mind too much from its creative pursuits. Any man who reads too much and uses his own brain too little falls into lazy habits of thinking.
– Albert Einstein

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”

― Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

I don’t know

I stare at an emotion chart trying to define this malady that is gnawing at me. Gnawing at my soul, stealing my joy. Names like Vulnerable, Empty, and Apathetic all seem to call up different creatures. The same with Inadequate, Anxious, and Overwhelmed. I look deeper.

The hollowness pushes outward, threatening to sublime my structure into vapor. A metric to define this, to have power over it. This void defies me as it swallows me whole.

I probably just need some sleep.

The ramblings of a madman

I am lost. I am hurt. I’m confused.

Things are changing and they are changing a lot. The changes aren’t good. The changes aren’t bad. They are unnecessary. I feel like they are unnecessary. I say that because I don’t want them to happen. I don’t want the changes to come.

Challenges. New and bigger things aren’t always welcome or expected. New and bigger things aren’t always better.

Who am I? I need to remember my words. I need to remember my identity.

I am strong. I am smart. I am cunning. I am devious. I am vicious. I am vindictive.

No. That’s not right. Let me try again.

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