Im trying to figure what else i can do with my time. I have a lot to spend. A day in prison is devoid of meaning and responsibility, a nihilist’s wet dream. Im trying what I can to make it full of meaning and purpose.
I write, read, and keep a dream journal. Work out and make sure to break a sweat every day. I do burpees like hot stay-at-home moms do yoga–like, I’m spiritual about it. I drink at least 6 bottles of water a day, and take fiber at night so I can take a big shit in the morning.
I floss and go for a walk after every meal. I call my family on the weekends. I write this blog while working on other stuff. I’m learning to draw. I signed up for a garden plot.
So Still, I feel the desire for more, the wanting, and the existential dread, asking myself: Is it enough? Will I be enough?
I want the day to go by as fast as possible and be the same everyday. I don’t wanna just bide my time, I wanna transmute it. By the end of these 8 years, I wanna have turned what was initially ugly and painful into something golden and magical, like it was all alchemy.