(no subject)

I'm escaping & realising I haven't a thing to worry about. I can worry about love, food or sex but it will have to work out in the end. I don't know where I'll be next year at this time - heck, I don't even know where I'll be next month. I should set up a goal for myself - both long-term & short-term, both physical and mental - and try and achieve that goal while I'm here. Personal development should be the key to this whole year. I am dancing in the streets - I'm improving. I'm not as reserved as I used to be. I'm not as annoying.
Next week, when I will have a place of my own, I will go to the beach, read a book and write some poems. I will devise a plan for my novel. I have the feeling that I should be able to write it here. I want to start it - the ambition is pouring down off me. I will seek some mindless employment for the weekends and maybe do some translations. I bought two books today - one poetry, one short stories - which I will read on the beach next week.
The future looks bright.

I should accept what I miss in life, rejoice in the new life and be grateful.

Just a note: Everything is conditional today.




I wrote a letter of surrendet to the enemy,
without regret throwing it all overboard
calligraphic symbols on a withering page,
through my hands the letter feels like
a paperthin weight resting on my shoulders.
The lives of many are now changed -
there is no space for innocence,
nobody's neutral towards anything.