So my resolution wasn't so resolute after all. Not that I expected much really. Or should I say, I did expect much only to procrastinate as usual. I decided to alter my plans and instead revert back to my previous way of not eating rice. Nasty thing, that is. I don't see any improvement with my snakehole at all. It's just as rotund as before, and equally nasty as any other spiteful thing. What are the chances of me changing into something productive? Seems like the odds are from zero to none at all. This year should be a different set knowing that this is the year of the rabbit. I'd take all the superstition I can if that's what it takes for me to be sensible. On top of that, the astrological age is also that of the Pisces. Everything points out to my favour, but nothing really ever changes, nothing ever matters, nothing is... I'm nothing. And that's the bottom line, wallowing in self-pity. Despite the sun's infinite form, it only takes a lifetime to witness, and then everything falls back to being expendable.
Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.