Superlative.
Reuters: Bush making "good progress" on new Iraq plan
It's awesome to know that the same words my eighth grade English teacher used on my report card are also applicable to the president.
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Reuters: Bush making "good progress" on new Iraq plan
It's awesome to know that the same words my eighth grade English teacher used on my report card are also applicable to the president.
What's wrong? I don't feel right. Something's weighing on me. There's no hope of sleeping, maybe I should go for a walk. Clear my thoughts. The night is cool, pleasantly so. With a slight mist that covers everything. I'm glad I'm in PB right now. I can see people around, I'm not totally alone. There's a passing car every now and then. Signs of life to break up the feeling of emptiness. If I were at home right now the streets would be deserted. Why do I live in the suburbs again? There's a bench outside a church, maybe I'll sit for a while. It feels good to rest. I really should be sleeping. Maybe I'll fall asleep on this bench, at least until the cops wake me up and tell me to keep moving. Or maybe the cops leave homeless people alone in San Diego. The leaves on that tree are a decaying orangish brown. They look sad, like they've lost the will to live, just wanting to let go and fall to the ground. I feel like nature has turned against me. Get up, keep moving. Walking is good for you, it keeps you moving forward, it keeps you occupied. The people walking on the sidewalk laugh and tell each other stories. Caught up in the embrace of friendly banter. But my mood is dark. I can feel it clutched in my chest, like a muscle that won't relax. Now that I think about it I've been chased by a negative feeling this whole time. Why can't I let it go? Breathe deep. Take in the calming energy of the night air. It's not working. Remember, deep breaths. There's a store, closed for the night. Music, books, odds and ends. The store is weakly lit, giving off that come back tomorrow vibe. The front door is glass, I wonder if I could break it. I'd rummage around until the cops came and took me to jail. That would be nice, to be connected again. That's not good, don't have those thoughts. You'll make your mother worry thinking such things. Keep going. Keep moving. Don't dwell on the negative. Let it go. Let it go. Why isn't this working? I should be feeling better by now. Everything I see casts a depressing shadow over me. Or maybe it's just that I'm depressed and it's affecting how I see the world. Of course that's the case, but it still makes me wonder if depression is a cause or an effect. This is a bad one. I need to get through to the other side. Brushing my fingers lightly against the leaves of a plant brings me back some measure of clarity, or sanity. God I love how things feel against the tips of my fingers. It's a sense of knowing the world concretely. The vibrations of contact, the wonderful play of friction, the tactile sensation. The signals slam into my brain like the rays of light from a morning sunrise. Maybe I can get to sleep after all.