A life of mess. An unmanageable, uncoordinated, superfluous mess. Time has seemed to reverse in this month of down time. So much time to myself I felt was needed may have been too much for my feeble state to handle. So many days alone with myself to reflect on things, I never knew it was possible to argue with my own words I once held true, for certain, unchangeable. An experience that was necessary, certainly, but close to insufferable. I noticed one thing about myself. I noticed that my perception of the good I do for others is by and large a form of ego. I place myself above others, which is why I care so much about them, viewing myself as a god in that respect I feel could be said about the examination now. My truth: I need nothing, I deserve nothing. I fear for others, I am them and that’s what makes me up as a sore piece of flesh. It makes me wonder, now, spelling it all out, do I hate everyone else? Is that what makes a god a god? Is love hatred in this twisted introspection? It may just be to a much lesser extent, I fear myself, I fear not knowing anything about myself; I’ve never once looked inside and cradled my obtuse ambition and strung out will. I can apply this to gaining inspiration from things.