Destination Unknown

When I finally returned home last night, I went straight to bed and fell into a long and deep sleep, the kind of sleep my body forces upon me when I have exhausted all my resources. All the blinds were shut when I woke. I could not tell what time it was. I lit my first cigarette at the table and glanced at the clock, which registered 10:15, an hour that usually finds me out of bed for a long time.

As I drink my coffee and write this, I feel the residue of my exhaustion. I have not completely recovered. The coffee has not roused me from my lethargy.

All I can think about is why I have been killing myself through acts of irresponsible and unrepentant hedonism. One of the reasons may be that I know I have already lost a good part of my mind. I am no longer fit for learning new things. I seem to be in a constant state of recalling old forgotten knowledge, and even then, not doing it well. I fear old age. I lose powers that once delighted me. My body dissolves into nothing. I cope with it through self-pity and denial.


With these melancholy thoughts, I start the day. That will not deter me from going out even if my destination is unknown.