Somehow, without much intention, I have written a good deal of my book in the past week. And by a "good deal" I mean (realistically) about two pages max. But for not trying, that's substantial. If I am being honest with myself this might end up being an endeavor of a decade or more. I should probably read some books on writing books. I feel so in over my head with it. And its always going to be at the back burner. I feel that I will never be able to commit myself to sit still for a long enough chunk of my life to make it my first priority. Besides, I don't think that is what writing a book is about. Not this one. Because it is about...

It doesn't matter here.

I'm getting there.


Anyway, for now life is going to be more writing intensive. Working on scholarship applications, worklogs, tutor reflection(s), this, that, notes, journals, blogs. I need to go deep into putting words to my thoughts because there is much swirling in my head; I need to be more focused on developing all of it into meaningful ideas rather than fragments of thought.

Though, I can't seem to fight the feeling that everything is fragmented right now (even if that is a fallacy of the mind, Nygil ---I don't quite know how to incorporate your words into my life yet especially when I feel so powerfully drained). I'm exhausted no matter how much I sleep. My interactions are face-value because I don't want or trust anything more than that right now. I'm overcome with bifurcating emotions pulling me in opposite directions...

whatever

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If the other's vitality is our own, then aren't you too drained, and aren't I also bursting?