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Feb. 24th, 2004 12:30 amIt's curious how volatile our days are, and how our years are filled with capriciousness.
Anger is growing in me like some unwanted weed -- it is jealousy, no doubt, of all those people who have everything I lack: success in the arts, happiness in their lives, people who give them chances to shine, and (for some,) pointy objects in their houses. What abilities I lack I do not know what makes up for them in strength.
I feel extremely guilty at the thought of being guilty in the future, of a criminal offence. Of course people could know me and my intents of such action, but that would be useless. It cannot be proved. Justice is thus blind to reason. Even with the most peaceful of intents, if caught, we must pay for our transgressions.
Anger is growing in me like some unwanted weed -- it is jealousy, no doubt, of all those people who have everything I lack: success in the arts, happiness in their lives, people who give them chances to shine, and (for some,) pointy objects in their houses. What abilities I lack I do not know what makes up for them in strength.
I feel extremely guilty at the thought of being guilty in the future, of a criminal offence. Of course people could know me and my intents of such action, but that would be useless. It cannot be proved. Justice is thus blind to reason. Even with the most peaceful of intents, if caught, we must pay for our transgressions.
