The sorry conclusion, the hole in the sky

commands what is tried, what is true.

But without solution, with feet on the ground

It won't make a sound until you're through.

So loosen your shoulderblades,

This is your hour to make due

because there on the timberline

a deep cold November shines through, soft and absolute.

This quiet serves only to hide you and provide you with what I knew:

it'd come back to you

My biggest problem with journaling is that I never say the things about myself that are true. I write about the things I want to be and the things I'll eventually do. Whenever I look back at my old journals, I see how much I wanted to escape myself. I can't remember the things that actually happened and all I know is that I couldn't stand my life back then. And all I have are rhetorical question and self defeating taunts to figure out why.

I mean, it's not like I'm amnesiac. I do remember the big parts of my life that happened, but journaling is about the details. Do you know how fucking cool it would be to know specific details about specific conversations I've had with people that once meant a lot to me? Right now, the only details I remember about my past are the conditions I thought the world and Iwould need to meet for me to be happy.

Oh well, live and learn. Life doesn't always have special meaning so no more recording it like it does.

This is the biggest difference between a theoretical approach and a practical approach to existence. AND I AM NO PHILOSOPHER.