I was lying in bed, warm and comfortable, except somehow I had lost my pillow, and I thought I should just go to sleep and find it when I wasn’t so tired, but then I quickly found it to the side of my bed.
For some strange and bizarre reason, I felt really happy after finding my pillow. I felt really content. I guess it really is about the simple pleasures—a warm comforter and a soft pillow.
But it’s now September and there are only 11 days left before I reach that arbitrary crossroads, 30 years out of my mother’s womb, and I know I have been fretting about it for a long time, but now that it’s close, I welcome it. I feel like there are new horizons opening up. I know I’ve felt like this way before, and have been terribly disappointment. Despite everything, there are a lot of things that haven’t changed at all, and sometimes I feel like Sisyphus rolling his damned stone up that hill only to watch it roll down, but you know, maybe that’s life, rotating through infinitesimally different cycles, like seasons, maybe, and there will always be winters, but winter isn’t always exactly the same every year. And maybe life is filled with a lot of insignificance and deadening sameness, but it’s crucial to live through that as well.
I’m blathering and not making sense, and maybe I’m just brain-damaged at this hour after working for 33 hours without sleep and then sleeping for 13 hours after that, but it all makes sense to me for some reason right now, and I guess right now is all that matters.