Pluto, 29° 59'

It's the time of endings, and even the birds are restless. Footprints in the snow, walking away. I see (to my surprise, though it really shouldn't be) that I wrote this exactly 2 years ago, and this nearly 3 years ago, and wouldn't you know it's all to do again, because submission to Fate is a constant process, it doesn't matter in the slightest that you are so very tired now.

You're Not Existing In Your World At All

It was the 26th of July, and we were at the storage unit by the side of the highway, loading my belongings into a truck. By then, it was near dusk.

He said, "well, if you choose not to go, imagine what you will be doing at this time tomorrow. If you do go, imagine you're not existing in your world at all." 

...

It's late October, and I'm somewhere else, more alone than I've ever been. If there is a sun anywhere in the overcast sky, I can't see it. Twilight birds flit through leafless branches. I wonder now if there is any world out there where I might exist at all.