So someone broke into my car today. I have a case number and everything. The cops took fingerprints. Which I find hilarious. I don't know what they thought they were going to steal. They didn't even take my Altoids. Or the sweatshirt in the back seat. I think they might have been after my ice scraper. But I fooled them. I always keep it in the trunk.
I turned in the master's report yesterday, which is splendid. Sort of had my heart broken the day before, which isn't. No worries. A few days, a few more pages written, and I can seek the heavenly bliss of oblivion. Consciousness. Burden. uhg
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Are you saying that consciousness is a burden? If you are, I agree.
of course consciousness is a burden. nine more pages, and the rest is silence.
roughly two more to go...
the burden is intolerable.
consciousness might not be the best thing in the world... but it beats at least some of the alternatives.
ick.
I don't know, I've quite, quite enjoyed unconsciousness the few times I've been fortunate to experience it.
how can the ego "enjoy" a state in which it does not participate? hmmmm.
Good question. Perhaps "enjoy" is the wrong word. But in my mind, when the burden of consciousness is eased, when one (unfortunately) slips back into consciousness, I believe there is a residual "memory" of the recent "enjoyment".
It doesn't have to be like that, you know.
Though the pain doesn't ease, it does not have to be the only, or even the dominant, mode of being aware of existence. That is, suffering is not the only word given to this strange world of human life.
I have tasted hope, and I know--precisely because the pain continued just as before--that I was not in a state of self-delusion.
Perhaps I assume too much in writing these words; I'm sorry if that is the case.
badly worded last phrase: I should have written: if that's the case, I apologize.
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