![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Reset Forty-Seven, Day Fifty-Three
Jan. 21st, 2023 09:31 amDamn, I'm a day older again today. I thought it was only once a year, but it turns out it happens every damned day! Well, that bites. It's no wonder I didn't sleep well Friday, or at a sensible time, or do anything of any significance whatsoever. I do recall seeing some sunlight, and watching some Idernet, and eating something, though I've forgotten what. I'm pretty sure the only part I might have enjoyed was being asleep, and I can't be positive about that because I might have had nightmares that I've suppressed. I do know I didn't feel rested on awaking.
While awake, my swollen feet have hurt, my stiff legs have ached, and my hip joints have been making threatening clicks and pops. Also I have sneezed quite a bit. I hate sneezing. Did you know that your soul leaves your body when you sneeze? I mean it doesn't, of course, but they used to say it did, and that's enough to worry me. If people have been sneezing for millennia and haven't all died from it, isn't that a pretty good sign that there's probably no such thing as an actual soul? And wouldn't that mean that Sting was wrong, and we are not "spirits in a material world?" And if Sting is wrong about that isn't it likely that he is wrong about other things? Perhaps most things? Everything? And if Sting is wrong about everything, isn't life itself a lie?
I think this is why I've not been feeling well. Sting is wrong and my life is a lie. Who among us has feet that would not swell up and hurt at such a realization? Will I be any longer able to take comfort in even the weather with such a truth hanging over me? Not without a lot of beer, I'd say. And some chocolate. And certainly not when I'm probably awake for the day, as I most likely am today, having gotten up as late as half past four this morning. It's likely to be hours before I can get back to the nightmares of sleep and escape this waking nightmare. Sting is wrong! Let the gnashing of teeth commence! (I'll put some chocolate between mine first. No point wasting a good gnashing movement in this otherwise meaningless world.)
While awake, my swollen feet have hurt, my stiff legs have ached, and my hip joints have been making threatening clicks and pops. Also I have sneezed quite a bit. I hate sneezing. Did you know that your soul leaves your body when you sneeze? I mean it doesn't, of course, but they used to say it did, and that's enough to worry me. If people have been sneezing for millennia and haven't all died from it, isn't that a pretty good sign that there's probably no such thing as an actual soul? And wouldn't that mean that Sting was wrong, and we are not "spirits in a material world?" And if Sting is wrong about that isn't it likely that he is wrong about other things? Perhaps most things? Everything? And if Sting is wrong about everything, isn't life itself a lie?
I think this is why I've not been feeling well. Sting is wrong and my life is a lie. Who among us has feet that would not swell up and hurt at such a realization? Will I be any longer able to take comfort in even the weather with such a truth hanging over me? Not without a lot of beer, I'd say. And some chocolate. And certainly not when I'm probably awake for the day, as I most likely am today, having gotten up as late as half past four this morning. It's likely to be hours before I can get back to the nightmares of sleep and escape this waking nightmare. Sting is wrong! Let the gnashing of teeth commence! (I'll put some chocolate between mine first. No point wasting a good gnashing movement in this otherwise meaningless world.)
