dead

I am really tired. I didn't sleep last night. The room was too hot, my blankets drowned me. Suffocated me. My light managed to flick on and wake Karin. (today, in the air of our room, I can tell she is still upset though she would never admit) I read. Oh, it seemed so long since I had read.

Has Romans ever awoken such sorrow and self loathing before? Have I ever felt so unworthy, so perfectly disgusting and tired of the world before? Have I ever known such pain?

It was even literal. My head pounded, it had for hours. Later, I would wake in the night several time to find my head still boomed with thunder in my temples. Perhaps the weather, for it snowed today. It is snowing. This moment.

The moment is gone.

Has Romans ever stirred me so painfully? This hurts, so deeply, so badly. Oh Lord, why did you make me this way? I am in such pain, such tatters of myself, I can not be a human being. What is this flesh that I am wearing? It can not be real. I am cut to the core, I am cut through all I am. This can not be real.

But I read Romans, it is, it is real. I have traded such treasures for the quiet of my room. For the loneliness I complain of. I have traded such grandeur for lowly scraps from the table of sitra achra. I should pray Krias Schema. would I fee better then? Would something wake up? Would it come alive.

I am like Ivan Ilyich. I am screaming, but no one hears me, they are ignoring me. I am like the man with the lizard. The angel is cutting it away with his sword. I gave him permission, but it hurts! It burns! I am dying! I am dead! will it ever become the horse?

Romans. I can not recall ever reading it. But my blankets dragged me down into an abyss. Abyss. what a slithering word. The light hurt my eyes. Blinded, burned. Karin woke, she's angry now, cleaning the curling iron. Rolling thunder in my head, now the pain stretches to my neck, my shoulders. What pain is this? Have I ever felt it before?

Romans.

But Karin's phone begins to ring.