So you have chosen
And all my efforts are for naught
And all hope has evaporated
And my earnest endeavour in vain
So, so.
Many have accused me of excessive melodrama.
Let them!
I care not for the opinions of others- I have heard enough of the opinions of others, and frankly, they disgust me. And anyway I cannot change who I am, what I was born to be.
Life in the material world has improved by leaps and bounds. I have been posted to Higher HQ, away from the dirt and sweat and pain of front-line combat. In any case I would never have made a good soldier. All my fond memories of armour training belie the fact that I was always one of the slowest and clumsiest in the unit, slow of finger-finesse and lacking in forceful fury. Amazing that I find these remembrances fun and funny. It must have been the adrenalin rushes, nothing else.
In any case it's like the Israelites being delivered out of Egyptian hell- thanks be to God.
And on another plane, life remains as inscrutable and opaque as it always was. You cant really see through to the other side; there's just this woozy stream of golden bubbles against an impenetrable obsidian surface. Indecipherable, unreadable, moving in random and indiscernable patterns, always elliptical and never forthright. Games played through the splintered glass lenses of minds' eyes, games that are disorientating in the extreme. All fun and games, like Edward Albee's absurdist theatre pieces, swimming in alcohol under the brilliant jazz lights of joy. The whole damn thing is just a game-each toying with the other just for the sheer amusement and thrill.
But what happens when the fun ends?
As it seems, I am about to find out.
