2:17 am. I need to sleep. I can't sleep. A strange thing seems to have happened: I'm thinking episodically especially at this time
I cut myself. It hurts. Bleed. Bleed. Bleed. Here's a plaster. Easy. Take heed. Small cuts tend to affect all sense of self belief.
Seriously, though, I told her "I think about death often, these days...well, more often these days." I think of life after death more often these days.
If I can summon the will, I'll make a boat. I'll travel out to sea. No one would be able to take that away from me. I'll sail and die then watch my body, for a while, while I float.
Since I cannot see what is going to happen, I'll resign myself to life. Not fully a knight of faith since I find myself resisting, I'll serve as a knight of resignation. I take life.
Pity is the worst offering, then, that can be given at this time. The thought of pity saddens me more. I think I'll try for sleep again. It is now 2:30 am.