Wednesday, March 8, 2017


I thought that I would be cold today, and that my dress was too short.
I wore a long jacket.
It's a shame that I bite my nails.
Thinking is half an action. Or a quarter of an action. Or maybe an inch of an action.
I don't know how long an action is, so I'm not sure if an inch is less than a quarter.
I guess it depends on the thought. The extent of the action. The extent of the consequences.
The consequences are everything. It's weird how everything is connected. How every little thing you do makes or alters events. Little events. How the road where you took a turn might have saved or killed someone.
To be obsessed about every little thing or reach a state of indiferrence, because, really, nothing is under your control.
What is the appropriate level of caring. Is it really care?
Why would you baptise your selfishness as care?
I want to be pure. I don't want to think about things I wouldn't do.
I don't want my actions to carry the burden of alteration, just because my insticts weren't appropriate.
Are my insticts really my insticts? Or just something I was taught?
Am I me or a product of reactivity?
Blabber, blabber, blabber.