Perhaps it’s especially when there is seemingly no way out, no openings or no apparent directions to take, when it’s all just compact darkness, perhaps it’s especially then that you have not just the need, but also the ability, and the support, not just to run, but to actually leave.

I’m certain of the small stuff, of where I am; I mean, I’m here, with my body, having certain knowledge and certain relations with certain things, certain people. The big picture though, is blurry, why I’m sitting here, and what my intention is, those things are certainly not clear.

Let’s say that all there is is a hollow and something that should fill it. Like desire and fulfillment. To stay empty is not a pleasant thing. The question is if the unpleasantness is the only thing needed to earn the filling, or if there needs to be a more crystallized need for it as well.

Good. Bad. Feel good. Feel bad. What if bad feels good? Or if good feels bad? Of course the feeling is always right. I mean, I feel what I feel. But of course, feelings change. While good stays good. Bad stays bad. I realize that. Except when I don’t.

Regarding not seeing where you’re going. No, not as in stumbling; stumbling is not a bad way to move forward as long as you know where you’re going. But do I ever see? If I saw, would I still be wanting to go? I only see what I want to see. But that’s not where I’m going.

There’s the trouble, the pain; the discomfort and the fear. And there’s the place I wanna go, the goal and the good stuff. Day and night; white and black. Until you realize that you don’t realize that they’re connected and mutually dependent and that it is the contrast between them that is the thing.

I have a goal; it’s the most important thing in the world, it’s engraved in my soul and it’s never gonna change. One day I lose the desire for it. It’s still important. I just don’t want it any more. I’m split. Should I stay and fight, or enter the bliss of oblivion?

If I live in a city of fools, I become a fool; and I may stay a fool until I die; or, I may receive a little sting that lets me know I’ve become a fool; and then it’s up to me; to brush it off, or to do all in my might to perform the hard, but in the end rewarding work of unfooling.

I’m a fool, a sucker, but in a good way, I mean, it’s calculated, meaning, without assurance I take a small step away from the false sanity, from “good life,” this lie that was imposed on me, well, I’m its prisoner and can’t, nor want to escape, but after a few forbidden foolish steps, I start to see a way.