Tuesday, November 16, 2010
I find myself back in an attempt at a hedonistic life as the end draws nears, musing if my stint played any significant part in draining away my passion for life. Things grow drab and dreary and I grow weary of such a routine. I refuse to take this for another bout of depression, however well the symptoms might fit. Prudence would dictate that it is time to get out of the downtrodden trenches, but the twin evils of apathy and procrastination have the upper hand.
No longer do I remember what a good life is like - it clings on in the vestiges of the mind, clearly in sight but out of reach. It mocks me every now and then, though it is not all that surprising.
No longer do I remember what a good life is like - it clings on in the vestiges of the mind, clearly in sight but out of reach. It mocks me every now and then, though it is not all that surprising.