Making my way, every day;
Walking the road, bearing the load.
Making it a little, but not all alone;
Starting a life, getting it going.
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Just a man, pausing in his daily walk to ponder.
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Friday, December 28, 2001
Another Christmas has come and gone, another short time when our whole nation gathered together to look to the future with hope has passed. And with it the holiday goes the spirit that filled the land for a short while. Gone is the persistent cheer, the marvellous happiness, the spirit that makes the season. And yet gone not is the Spirit that makes it possible. Oh, how I wish that the spirit in all of us would react all the year the way they did for the past days. Alas, but such is not to be. And here I sit, typing away at my computer, lamenting not only the departure of the spirit of Christmas, but also my own great folly. And how great a fool am I to engage in such folly? How is it that I forget my place - forever and always outside the bounds of humkanity, of normalcy. Nay, I am not above them, nor beside them, nor even beneath them. I am simply OTHER, outside, the execpetion to the rule. How stupid I must be to ever forget that I am alone - that, though I try, I will never find another of my kind in this wide world, nor even one who will relate to me. A stupendous moron I am, for daring to try to be like other people are, to stretch my neck out in the hope that there will be no blade to hew it. I laugh, not for happiness - forever disconnected in myself - but in spite of myself. For the laughter is the only thing that holds back the tears, the pain that lives in me. Oh, to be able to be like everyone! Oh, to have those ever so common abilities of relation and connection. For it is the worst form of torture to be teased and taunted with tastes of the bliss of finding a like heart and similar soul, and always denied it's fruition. But only a great fool would seek that which he cannot have, and thus I am the greatest fool, for I seek, even knowing that I shall fail. And thus does sadness pierce me, my sight is dimmed by the flow of salt tears, and my soul is darkened by depression that shall ne'er depart.
1:14 AM
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