When shall I say it is over this time? It is not like the last; I spent too long the last, long time believing it was all happening to me in some real way, that it was not illusion. I have the benefit of hindsight, this time. Perhaps it is harmful to me, after all, that I believe I am a prophet. Not just that it is probably false, but that I may end up doing stupid, stupid things to further that hypothesis. Is that it? When I let that go?
There are many forces at work in any human being. Each of us is pulled in several ways all at once at all times, and this is what we call life. This is what we call responsibility. I forget who said it, but madness is thinking about too many things at one time or thinking of one thing too much. I should let it subside the one thing, the many things, but I do not know how. And I must not ask, "What will become of me?", for what will become of any of us? God has a plan, I believe, that is mysterious until we are let in on it, and then it is simple as day.
Perhaps dawn approaches. Let the dew break on my feet, and let the chill not startle me.
