Don't feel bad for me.
I don't have much to say, but I felt the need to write something down. I dislike that everything I've been writing has steadily arched into something that doesn't even relate to my life anymore. How can a journal only parallel you? This'll probably be the last entry in this journal. A good thing, I've been told.
A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger after him. Coming to a precipice, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself over the edge.
The tiger sniffed at him from above. Trembling, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. Only the vine sustained him.
Two mice, one white and one black, little by little started to gnaw away the vine. The man then saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other.
How sweet it tasted.
Happiness comes of the capacity to feel deeply, to enjoy simply, to think freely, to risk life, to be needed.
A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger after him. Coming to a precipice, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself over the edge.
The tiger sniffed at him from above. Trembling, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. Only the vine sustained him.
Two mice, one white and one black, little by little started to gnaw away the vine. The man then saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other.
How sweet it tasted.
Happiness comes of the capacity to feel deeply, to enjoy simply, to think freely, to risk life, to be needed.