4 may

It is is this limbo, this mindless numbing limbo, that is the most difficult. it is that difficult thing of grinding one's way from Dreaming to Living. and becoming, always becoming. but becoming what? i wonder. i deaden and i come alive: becoming what?

this is the portion deadened with disillusionment. this is the part that says: why have i been cream-fed all this Spectacularity nonsense, when it is known that i am to grow up and bang my head on a wet impartial universe? there must be some sort of life outside this limbo, some sort of opaque wall i will work through; out of Lack and into Selfness. i am not prepared to flap about forever in this yellow bubble of identitylessness. i am ready: come quickly, paint me blue and white: matriculation. make me beautiful and world-eaten.

i am convinced that growing up is this: it is wondering how the beautiful world of my childhood evaporated into this merciless void, and yet marching always forward in hopes of finding something equally beautiful.