I took a nap. A long nap. I wonder what the days are for, for people like me? It seems empty to do anything. Useless dribble to fill time. Meaning nothing to no one.

Once again I ponder the question of existence. Do we always have to accomplish something with each task that we under take? Should there always be significance to each action? I don't know. Seems like that is the point. Otherwise, why bother in an endless excercise of insignificance?

I'm finding it difficult to begin any idea that might surface. What would be the point, I ask.

Dissociating seems a way of life and has crossed over into everything. A might out of control. Dark drumming rain hitting me in the face saying "go back down into the dirt"

Anne