Ionesco's eating at my head again. Seeing — yet again — the hermit's psychedelic vision.
House me in a quiet room in an uninhabited obscure building somewhere in the corner of a ghostly town — only an open window lets me see and feel the sturdy ever-growing tree bearing lovely pink flowers. And through the window, I see life taking a beautiful form — and I'm overcome by a strange sort of peace, with the bright sun lighting up my face into happiness.
I'm sort of disheartened today. Disheartened because I can't stand up for what I believe in. Because I'm afraid. Because I'm walking right into the bleak unknown in spite of my heart screaming "no."
But I'm going to see I get through this by myself. I'm not vulnerable.
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