movelifestartagain

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Every day I wake up, then I start to break up; lonely is a man without cause.

Ding dong!

The witch is dead. Long live the witch!

As I stood that first stand, on my way to the loo, it dawns on me how spurious things have been, and perhaps I can take into account my own misgivings as well. Nothing has made sense, and it belabours belief into question. While I still have all day to continue to ponder -- and pander -- nothing I do will ever bring clarity to the misconceptions, and perhaps that is the precise reason why it must remain so. I must needs accept the circumstances -- again, and act upon it as steadfastly as befits my station. There is no need to count the stars. I must accept my purpose. Here. In this soil I stand upon. Not up there. Nothing any more. Empty promises. This soil is mine to sow and mine alone to toil, and toil it shall be. To be honest, I am already dreading the concept of it, but it is what it is. Back to square one, as I deserve.

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