Sunday, 11 August 2013

December

Only because December sees our year's cyclical end, and with it, the dawn of a new one.

I sit down and consider this day- “my” day- just as I do every day; reflecting on my self-imposed duties and ways of leisure to get around them, taking every day exactly like it is: by day; one day at a time; day after day, like some anthropomorphic herd shuffling unconsciously along, seamlessly and with no end in sight. I do not daunt on the future. I do not think of my problems or monetary concerns. I think only of the period of 24 hours and how it will be passed most painlessly, if I can: most pleasurably. This is my only plan- my only ideal. There is no quest for glory or salvation and no desire for the fulfilment of ‘dreams’, there is only the 24 hours, and sleep, reviving each time as a new season until I reach the advent of my own December, where I might then, sleep eternally

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