I probably should be very sleepy by now, but I'm not. It's been going on for weeks. At around 10 a.m. I decided I can't take it anymore and passed out, only to be painfully ripped out of a senseless dream by my father's yelling after a few hours. I sat down to eat. The others have already finished their meal. Mine was cold but I didn't mind. The table was empty, the TV was on in the other room. After I ate I just sat there and felt like crap for some time. I just sat there, completely silent, not having enough willpower to get up from my chair and go somewhere, anywhere. I listened to my parents commenting on the telly. I thought about how after dinner I'll be be sitting there again, probably listening to the evening news. (Have the news always been this dramatic and violent or is it really getting worse?)
It's pathetic to see this blog incline from its spiritual aspiration for love towards full-blown existential desperation. I still have hope that it'll go away. But I can never go back to the illusion of the sacred warrior again. I used to be so sure about my ways, but now - I'm not even sure if love is the answer. I'd say I'm totally empty, but I won't because I don't know what empty is. I just can't grasp it. Well can you?
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