Farther out at sea he still sees that blue grey vastness, a little bit like something too big to be real. Is that the sky or the sea? He wondered. For a moment he forgot he was he amidst this incomprehensible space, as if he too was empty. No, it was as if he did not exist, only this wide expanse which stretched on farther than his eyes can reach, longer than time itself--When time was not even a concept, this whiteness and silence have been here. When eyes have yet viewed this creation it has been. Everything dropped away, even silence, even wideness. There was no God but this, no time, no fate, no season, no change but this.
There was nothing but this. He was this space, this sea, this sky and they were he. He felt the waves roll inside, over, under. His skin dissolved and he breezed through the whiteness a cloud, a breath, a sigh. He travelled miles stationary. He lived millenias instantaneously.
A creak from his little canoe drew him back to his minuteness his averageness, to the fact that he is alive and distinct from the sky, he sea, and he had a home to retrun to. Somewhere back there, a lighted home and warm dinner is waiting.

"...because I've always considered writing the most hateful kind of work. I suspect it's a bit like fucking, which is only fun for amateurs. Old whores don't do much giggling."
-Hunter S. Thompson

I'm sick of this shit!
Im gonna give up. For sure this time.
I supposed to have outgrown this a long time ago.
I Just want to swear. FUCK!
I hate how stupid I am becoming.
I can't even think straight
and cry for no apparent reason
and cry
for a stupid reason
I hate this
I'm
weak
foolish
and still I keep
waiting.
What is happening?
What
is
happening
?