I rarely get to write personal thoughts and feelings nowadays. Uhm, probably because there is not much to talk about in the first place.
Woke up excited, ending the day in complete opposite manner. I think I haven’t accomplished anything today. I helped a deer friend with his laptop, which reminds me that I adore his kid. Hoarded some more books, one of it being Nevil Shute's On the Beach. It was suggested as being one of the most depressing reads, so I am undoubtedly all over it.
My stomach does not feel right. I should just breathe and relax more. I should promise myself that I will not skip some basic yoga stretches tomorrow. Whenever I felt down before, that used to bring some sense back.
Okay. Oh, should I start a dreaming journal? Every other day, another one comes, and I sense a resemblance. I am constantly alone, and the things that I do and I see through my eyes are bleak, I sense no remorse.
My feet are cold. Good night.