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.