“Dearest, I feel certain I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time.”
– from Virginia Woolf’s suicide note
Sometimes I can feel distant warnings like the rumble of thunder clouds, but there’s no shelter in sight. And I think of all the hundreds of times I’ve been “soaked” by the storm, how horrible it feels to be cold, alone and meaningless. And I say to myself, like Virginia said, “I shan’t recover this time.”
I just took a handful of sleeping pills and guzzled a pot of coffee? Why? I don’t know. Nothing else makes any sense, so why not. Will they cancel each other? I just gorged on a plate of disgusting food and now I’m going to workout like a madman. Will they cancel each other? 10 years ago I found a dog and took her to the SPCA and they killed her. Last week I rescued a dog from the SPCA. Will they cancel each other? I was born and I will die. Will they cancel each other???
Another poet, Omar Khayyam:
“I sent my soul into the invisible,
Some letter of that after life to spell.
And by and by my soul returned to me
And answered, I myself am heaven and hell.“