Taking A Long and Lazy Nostalgia Bath...
The red and amber foliage of Fall has an intoxicating affect for bringing out my naked contempt with all it's grim and forbidding twilights. Setting the mood for self punishment within an aching heart heavy with regret. Conversations with the dead do not provide absolution. The sun seems strangely shrunken as it sheds a light that doesn't fully illuminate anything it touches. The sour yellow glow only enhances lengthening shadows from skeletal trees that grasp out towards a bruised sky. Observing the season's changes from behind a window can hamper my perception and distort the view as I catch unwanted glimpses of my own reflection. I sit and wait for the rain to cleanse the abundant corruption that I've breathed in and swallowed. It offer's a considerable antiseptic placebo that alleviates infectious feelings that the years worry, bitterness, and self-loathing tend to breed within my soul. Dangerously tempting me to embrace hope and slough off bad choices of fallen years. Instinctively I'm aware that the more I learn, the more thoroughly I seal my own fate as I say goodbye to the real world and step back into the otherworldly land of second chances.
"what is better: to live, believing that something is true, completely deluded against realising otherwise and therefore be totally (yet falsely) happy, or to wake every day in clear consciousness, full awareness, and possibly never know such bliss that delusion can bring? having surely wallowed in my delusions for a goodly amount of time and having survived (omnia gracia diei), and now being again confined to my more strictly regulated world of logical consideration and rational action, I can honestly say that no one could be blamed for thinking twice and hesitating to answer that particular question. after all, would anyone truly be able to pass up, without difficulty, an offer to return to some past bliss, so long as it were clear that the false joy would not end?"
i really enjoyed reading this person's journal.