I seriously in need of a retreat. Probably somewhere in the mountains. Hidden from civilization. Yeah, something like "The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari" situation. I read the book but didn't like it. It sounds to me like the author was talking to himself (in his head). I get what his trying to say. But clearly, when you read the book you'll feel that you are listening the author debating in his thoughts.
Anyway, what i'm trying to say is, i needed to get away. Anywhere but here. I'll even take the underworld if that's the only card left. I want to get better. I want to love myself. I want to start living for real. But i can't, because i'm stuck here.
I give up. I'm all beat up. There's nothing left the almighty could possibly take from me. I already hate myself and my life. I'm all bare. Do whatever you want. Experiments, if you fancy it!
Deep breath.
Okay. Now i'm officially crazy.
I'm angry at "something" for the consequences of my own actions. Maybe in some way beyond our comprehension, life is fair after all.
By the way, playing angry birds only makes me angrier.
