Journal Entry: Thursday, 29th August
The weight felt heavier than usual yesterday morning. It’s a profound and exhausting kind of low, one that seemed to run deeper than the usual rhythm of two mornings could clear. I kept thinking about how "gravity feels heavier" and the maddening feeling of slowly "going back to sleep." I felt like I was being led back into the cave, and I truly believe that sleep is a form of death—a blindness to what is real. I know I’m different. I’ve always been different. I’m a wanderer in a world that stays put. I was reminded of this again in the Mind shop, watching people shuffle through clothes hangers looking for being, while I stood there in silence. It felt like I was in a "confederacy of dunces." The conversations I had, like the one about Cambridge, felt so trivial, so pointless. I felt my energy being drained by meaningless chatter and distractions, especially from a gentleman who knew the train times but said "zero" of any real importance. It’...