I was asked to free-write, advised rather. Well… I am writing freely, while my mind is in some self imposed prison, penancing: Some kind of atonement for something – I do not know what.
I am now a bad person: Angry, easily agitated and in-different. Thus – unable to locate an amenity in the space(s) in my mind, I must leave to save others from my dejection, desolation and despondency. Venture out to a world to never return. I have to be alone, possibly for eternity or until death, rather – I hope the latter is soon.
The woods, a forest – also ‘the woods’ – a tiny shack on the land-side of the promenade, obliquely located on an escarpment: My hands hanging from the balustrade, body vibrating with the dis-integrated particles of a mind/body altering chemical… Possibly I could die gazing at Sun. Hoping the rays may blind me permanently before I die.
Perhaps all the aforementioned is falsehood, for my life now is not presentiment of anything.