You cannot know all the ways, though I suppose maybe it is much better that way. Oftentimes I think of how cute humanity is, how nice and interesting it can be to simply be a human. Waltzing about this life on soul skates. Nobody knowing who or what you really are, least of all yourself. Though in many ways it would seem we become our actions. You cannot measure yourself against anything but yourself, it seems, at times. I want to dream and make my dreams real again, someday.

For now, I feel rather nice. I can’t get enough of Pink Floyd and these randomly assigned YouTube-recommended Jungle Drum-N-Bass mixes. I just feel so floaty among all the sounds. I’ve just gotten a pair of black Sony WH-1000XM4s, and I could not be happier. It is such a rich beautiful life, this can be. Even trying not to get too drunk off the material things. Nature itself—life, I’m convinced, is the most vivid painting. I saw it once more clearly when I was tripping balls taking a paranoid scenic walk home. Before I went to rehab. I saw how like a painting life and everything was. I just wonder at things and enjoy being able to wonder. Especially considering I should well be dead and maimed by now, with all that happened. It is slightly crazy that I am not. I suppose I have all the reason in the world to have a better outlook on things, now.

What I’ve lately come to feel is that you can’t put too much importance on every little thing—let it be important as it is, as everything may as well be, if you’d like. The world you live in quite well reflects you. So realize how good or bad it seems to be going is just within your control, to some extent. To some little extent, at least. You can make diamonds out of coal. I believe in you. I truly do.