Everything beautiful. Everything new. I walk through this place and recognize all of it, but everything, down to the water on my hands from my shower, is worth observing and is beautiful. Every man ought to feel some ounce of happiness when he observes the beauty of a flower. But even a flower, as naturally beautiful as it is and free to the world which wishes it, has a cost. The time to stop and admire the flower is never spent. There are much better things for a man to spend his time on, he thinks.
At this point, I feel as though I have lived for an eternity. In the literal sense, I have not. Physically speaking, I have only been alive for 21 years and some. Mentally speaking, I probably have the maturity of a child. However, in these last few days alone, I have experienced time in a manner in which I would swear that it wasn't moving at all. I would be constantly astonished at how little time had passed after I had made such an exorbitant effort to have patients, only to discover that time was not on my side.
And even now, and before even, time has always been horribly skewed for me. The phrase "time flies by" rarely has ever made sense to me because to my perception of things, time moves rather slowly in all situations.
Still woozy and sore from my ordeal, I have to have my arm in a weird place to sleep. I'm fairly certain the muscle tissue is damaged and will take a while to heal. Other than that, I am having weird dreams of color-coded go boards and playing go to save my life. Then finding myself in some crazy warehouse over and over again. It's like some kind of perverted torment where I try as hard as I can to get out, but run into yet another puzzle, except the latter is an empty room and I must create something from it.