Je suis riche.
This ain't gravity, this is life. It's weighting down on me all on its own from the inside of my head. But it's not pushing down, it's simply pushing against where my soul might be if there's such thing, inward and outward at the same time. Or maybe it's the hangover, or the fact I feel like I shat my liver whole earlier in one sitting, but it's not.
Something is there. I picture it as a gnawing darkness. Probably an inevitable cultural association, or maybe it is a gnawing darkness. Over the years, it has been a normal state to live with it. It was there but I forgot it even existed. And then I had brief moments when I got out of it, could look at it from the outside, see it was there. I was astonished to see life under such a different light. To have positive perceptions instead of bittersweet or outright bad ones.
Now it's back in me, or I'm back in it.
No matter, there's happiness to be found in the gnawing darkness.
Then I go to work.
It's hard, it feels artificials, and it doesn't work perfectly.
But it's a start.
I try to understand how we can all exist simultaneously, it seems to me there's altogether too much life happening at once in all those heads, and all of those happening outside my view. I try to understand why we are appart, to distinguish if there's something more between us than what the senses allow.
Then I go home and get drunk.