I feel sick. It’s not a normal sick. I wake up at night, sweating. Bad dreams, to say the least. I’m tired, from exhaustion, rather than sleep deprevation. I’m not eating tonight.
April is almost over, and that brings some sense of happiness to me. I want to write a letter in May, expressing how I feel towards Dr. Manning, the single most influential teacher that I had the pleasure of learning from. I want to write a lot more, suddenly. It’s odd that I want to write, but the idea has been in my mind for so long that I almost want to get it out.
Yet, I hesitate, blaming the timing, my real life, my future, and my lack of knowledge. If I do write something, how can it be complete when I myself am not complete? That is a huge discrediting factor that has so far stopped me from writing. But maybe I should risk it.
Strangely, for all my thoughts about the future, I don’t know what to say. I’m mixed, that’s for sure.
In other news, we sold the house. Or very close to it. That should be good, but hell for finals and attending to my work. Right now though, I don’t really think much about that, or I try not to. I’m tired. I just want to sleep.