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Hello. Sunday. Planned to go to Church. Set the alarm - evidently didn't turn it on. Great Thinker. I sleep until 4pm. Get up. No life nor energy. No purpose. Yes, I am on my Pity Potty. Joy, Joy. Such a lovely person to visit. Like the plauge. The phone rang once; it was my daughter. Her voice so alive, joyful, radiant with life and love. Love for her Mom; she doesn't know her Mom. If she did she wouldn't have the same feelings. Perhaps, my son knows me better. He knows I am utterly useless. He helps me. I think after he leaves, he asks himself, "why?, why bother?". Son and daughter may have the same feelings. Daughter may not want to admit it, not even to herself.
Harold I loved him; I hated him. I miss him; I'm glad to be alone. I hate lonliness; I despise company.
I hear calling, calling from the darkness, a lifeless place.
Answer the call - who will answer ? Silence? Fire and Brimstone? A welcome embrass of love? Death, death, death, oh where do you reside?
Shall you welcome me? Shall you increase the pain? Shall you forever silence all that was me? Death, the torment of man's souls, Faith the essence of pure water, love, acceptance? Sin. Sin. Sin.
For without sin, my soul would know peace. Sin invites death. Death calls sin. Sin and death's call embrace the lost, lonely, scared, the empty vessel.
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