(transcribed from pencil and paper with minor edits; written twenty-two hours prior to falling)
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find notes ... on myth, poetry, theology. I'm not sure from where. I'll read again during the day.
It is Christmas Eve day, midnight. Church in several hours, if I go ... I am waiting ... to sleep. Headache, from stress. Suddenly it is Christmas again. It is too soon. The waiting is nearly over, and it feels like there is nothing to wait for.
Waiting, waiting, waiting. For what, when. After now, what then?
I feel sick considering the possibilities. There is not good after. How can there be? There is not. Not for me. Not for me. Waiting for what?
I have very little, very few structured thoughts.
...
Mind is scattered but blindly so. Thoughts are all still there, but weak. Weak.
Locked into a corner. Cornered by fear, by power. Who wields the power...
