June292010
Outside of that which I see and feel in this moment, exists the
greatest injustice. All which I have ever been, or ever been given –
has been stolen in the irreverent blind spots of passing moments and
blindly given to the dark, careless, memory which gives and takes to
the conscious at its own incoherent discretion. This is the cause of a
considerable amount of heartache. Sometimes I wish to savor these
conscious feelings for longer than the moment allows. Furthermore,
this uncontrollable discretion of conscious to unconscious (or vice
versa) thought, I hate even more. The idea is nauseating, that the
thoughts which belong explicitly to me are widely controlled by
unknown faculties.
