The mind is the most powerful part of your body. Once you are at a spiritual equilibrium you can control anything with your mind. The other day I layed in the hammock in our backyard and tricked myself into not feeling the cold. I’ve began mental exercises to try and expand my mind. What I’ve noticed so far is that I’m much more in tune with my body. I feel more balanced.

There are a few things in my life that I’ve done over and over, without any explanation as to why. I don’t really know why I never called her back, and then why I persisted in doing that. I don’t know why I made excuses and reasons, and I don’t know why explanations and apologies never seem like enough.

The tragedy of it all isn’t that I don’t get what I want, it’s that what I want is taken away so abruptly. It always feels like a kick to the chest, and each time always hurts a bit more than the last time. Eventually all the kicks feel like one long continuous pain, and being lonely feels almost satisfactory.

It was just after work when things got surreal. When life became so awkward and fake that time just passed by unnoticed. I kept moving and speaking, breathing and being. It was the only thing that I could control in my life. It was like everything I knew had just became untrue.

“Oh my god,” she says to me. “Did you know him well?”

I think for a bit, trying to grasp onto whatever mental ledge I can find.

“Yeah,” I hesitate. “High school.” The words just fall from me, a few of the millions of thoughts stirring in my head.

Moments pass. The world pulsates every time my heart beats making it seem like I was watching some dramatic television special. Like I’m dreaming, except that I know I’m not, and so things become unacceptable and I become selfish. I manufacture every reason why this could not actually be happening. I want to scream that I’m in control, but there’s no truth to it. I try to imagine his ferocity and determination, I try to duplicate it and make it my own, but I can’t. I feel shallow. As if it were depth that killed him.