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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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A Return
I don't have the opportunity to say what I want to say on my more public blog. Not that anyone reads that one either, but some people do. My mother, for example. (I can't really talk about how I'm worried that she takes so many painkillers. I'm worried that it's going to become a problem for her. But I can't really talk about that on the blog she reads because it would become a problem.) I also don't write about how stuck I feel these days. I'm afraid that I'm wasting my life. I'm afraid that I'm never going to do anything of importance. And so far, that's true. I don't hate my life. But I am worried that I'm wasting it. The idea depresses me. But it certainly doesn't motivate me. So I come back to this, my old blog. What good does it do?
More lies:
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