Today I’m in trouble, because I feel like going insane — not insane in a bad way but just losing myself, being wild, standing on the edge of something that scares me. As Lord Byron said, I’m standing on the edge of a precipice, and it’s a wonderful feeling because today I want that feeling.
I want to look into infinity and never know whether I’m going to come back. I feel like this because I spent the last nine days in bed with Covid — I didn’t read, I didn’t watch TV, I did a bit of Instagramming, I wrote a few love letters to the world but not enough to stop my mind from getting cabin fever. My brain feels like it’s been squashed into an inexpensive slab of pate.
