Sometimes you just want to feel. With age even this ability dulls. It dulls as a slow process deluged by the clusterfuck of life. Right under your nose. It is an effort to feel, and all true effort wanes with age.
As a child, a youngling, you feel everything. All of it peppered with mirth. The mirth is what gives childhood its innocence. While mirth is the most fleeting, you can still feel.
Feeling is the only way to realise reality. It can't be articulated, rationalised or conveyed. It can only be felt.
Unfortunately with age, you need motivation, some catalyst to nucleate the thoughts, some intoxication. How else can you ever explain dependence?
What i feel keeps me inside myself. Trouble is even that memory fades and I have to crawl back to this place happy or miserable.

Still holding on to my modest goal of averaging 1 km a day run.

I must be getting old.

At one point in life, invariably, you give up. And, before you do, you can always imagine yourself doing it.

Validation is life. Machines learn. Through unimaginable labor and menacing calculations they make some sense of what is. But, in the end no construct validates what they do. Take comfort oh simple one for you are the definition of complexity.

This can't be nothing because it is something. At least for now.

I hate pain, but give me a reason and I might just volunteer.

Aim in life