Elie Wiesel once said, the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference.  For the past days, I believe I am unloving.  And there’s nothing I can do about it.

I want to be the big ambiguous piece of everything that just floats around.

Wouldn’t that be amazing.  Wouldn’t that be poetic.  Wouldn’t that be real.

Can I not be angry anymore?  There is nothing to mitigate the anger.  Fuel keeps flowing.

Tuning out now.