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I feel the point has come into question again. Swimming with weights, distractions lined up to aid crossing the span between moments of happiness. Why is everything tied to some form of guilt?
I'd quit if I could. Progress seems to be grinding to a halt, the waypoints are no longer visible, the complex traps of the mind unfolding faster than I can bridge or dodge. If thinking is the problem, how is it possible that I can think to solve the problem?
I wonder.
