I had a rough night last night, although it had started out well enough. I went to sleep at about 11 without difficulty, but then awoke to the sound of a storm outside. From that point on my mind was crowded with thought and rumination. Among other things, I thought of the difference between reality as it is and reality as one only wishes it were, and how the latter type exerts such a great magnetism that it can easily overcome the truer, dispassionate, unloving thing and swallow it whole, incorporate it, replace it. After that, you cannot see the real thing by looking closely, but only by viewing it from far away--through time, distance, indifference. Does it matter after it no longer matters? Well, perhaps for one with time left to learn and years left to live. Perhaps also where it pertains merely to peace of mind.
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It turns out that thinking is a disease of the mind that cannot be fathomed so easily. I thought the world might have ended. But really the world never began, and when I got up it seemed like a mystery had been solved when it had merely deepened and changed shape. Longing is another form of injury not related to thinking but more of a condition of time that never leaves one in peace.
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