It is therefore senseless to think of complaining since nothing foreign has decided what we feel, what we live, or what we are.
I exist, that is all, and I find it nauseating.
Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you.
It is only in our decisions that we are important.
The recruit who reports for active duty at the beginning of the war can in some instances be afraid of death, but more often he is 'afraid of being afraid'; that is, he is filled with anguish before himself.
It is certain that we cannot escape anguish, for we are anguish.
Life begins on the other side of despair.
We are our choices.
I woke in a Jean Paul Sartre kind of a mood. OK, I've been there for a couple days now.
I meet Doc Barker tomorrow morning at 11. We'll discuss the upcoming surgery, pick a date (I'm hoping for this week – get this shit over with), talk about what recovery might be like, discuss that rat-bastardly meningioma on the right side of my bean – the one with desperately bad growth timing.
Today? I believe I'll take a break from adulting – eat cookie dough ice cream, cute kitten vid surf and watch a few eps of Buffy.