ἀέναος οὐσία

I am awake—it’s 03:33 am. I woke up at 2:54. I was restless with hunger. A deep feeling of restlessness permeated my body. I have almost finished eating now. I feel better—I am soothed and relaxed. I don’t know what there is to say other than that. I am reluctant to go into how I feel. There are a lot of things I try to suppress and fend back.

I seem to always be digging down in the depths of my psyche. I seem to derive pleasure from going in the deep and dark and then coming back, at times bringing back treasures. I keep finding myself in this situation. It has become a habit. It has become trivialised. I do not go into the deep any more. I seem to content myself with staying at the surface level, like a child playing in the shallow waters, dipping in and out.

The child doesn’t want to abandon the safety of the land. The sea is inviting and fun, but also strange and dangerous. Being in the water feels familiar yet refreshing and different. It is fun to feel the coolness of water on a hot day, to feel weightless, to be naked without shame. It is fun to submerge underwater and find new worlds. But the child soon realises he cannot stay too long—definitely not forever—underwater; he needs to breathe air. It is fun to dip in for a moment, but to go out in the deep is scary. There is the possibility of death. One needs to know how to swim. And to find the treasures that lie in the deep, one needs to know how to hold their breath.