August 18, 2003
What could make it better? In what sorry little corner am I in that I can say I want it to be better when I am able to draw breath? How could I possibly whish for more when I can open my eyes every morning? How can I even deign to complain about my life where I can walk out my door and feel the wind in my face? I do because it's my life and I want it to be everything I imagine it can be. I can because I am through with suffering and it's time to stop.