It's almost new year. All I can see is my mistakes, my regrets, many times I let myself and God down. This has been a very important year, and best year so far, but I still only see the glaring imperfections. Not imperfections... but there really is no other word for it.
There is only one reality, and time is ticking.
I wonder if the eventual motivation of exploring the outer space will be boredom. I can see it. It's not because we've exhausted all our resources on earth, or some catastrophe that can't be recovered - it's simply because some of us are tired of the available regimes - in the past and present, and politics and other stalemates. If humans really want to create something radically different, set new rules, they probably have to colonize outer space.
I have so little hope for what's going on here. I can dream, you can dream, everyone can dream. But to bring those dreams to reality... I mean, when you really dream big...
I am comfortable in hell - because I'm familiar with it. I know there is no way of getting out. I don't know where I'll go after this life. I'm grateful for this life, but there is this enormous hopelessness.
Eating is such a tiring chore, Diary. I'm not baking anything again unless it's for more people. This Sunday is the Feast of the Holy Family. If you can look away from the decors and sales and see Christmas or any such holiday for what it is, which I do - Christianity is pretty boring. It's boring, lame and desperate that people have to select their names, roles, morals and plot points from such a little book for centuries. I'm drowning in this despair.
There is much to lose your hope over in hell. This is nothing. There is also everything else.
I cannot see a single thing from others that gives me hope. I'm not the only saint, I know...
There isn't that much flavor packed in subtleties. Most people I remotely care about are playing low risk discretion game which progresses slowly .
I wonder if this is how it started every time.