"The irrational completes us."
- The Book of Lights, Chaim Potok


TERRIBLY SANE

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THE DIARY OF PETRICHOR




petrichor ['pe-tr�-ko(r) or -tri-]
the smell of rain on dry ground.


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----RECENT ENTRIES----
- - Saturday, Apr. 22, 2017
- - Thursday, Aug. 07, 2014
- - Friday, Mar. 14, 2014
Alone By Lack of Self-Trust - Tuesday, Oct. 01, 2013
Yearning for Tears - Sunday, Sept. 29, 2013

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zwischen Tuesday, Sept. 24, 2013 - 23:46 mensch


IF ANYONE STILL READS THESE OBSCURE, QUIET THOUGHTS, MY GUESTBOOK HAS FINALLY BEEN FIXED.

I frequently feel that I am not learning fast enough for life. I feel constantly caught in entanglements of regret and anticipated regrets. As my parents continue to age, their mortal frailty becomes ever more visible. I feel myself getting older, bit by bit. And the chains of habits and entrenched behaviors feel so heavy upon me. I just don't feel there is enough time for me to cast them all off and construct a way of living, being, and relating to others that I long for, dream for, and yearn -- and that time will make much of it impossible forever. I am wise enough to be aware of it, but maybe not wise enough to act accordingly. I am stuck in a state of grieving over the fact.

And, as I have been for a very long time now, I am alone, so alone, adrift in intergalactic isolation.

And the Shadow is everything and every moment.

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ter�ri�bly 1. in a terrible manner. 2. extremely; exceedingly; very. [Colloq.]




















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