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Castle in the Air

I have lost hope, realizing now that my hope was in a pie in the sky. I have dreamed of conquests on the high seas but never left the shore. I survive on an inheritance which is depleting rapidly, and then will succumb once more to poverty. I wish there was something I could do for myself, but I am abject and miserable. I don't want to work.

Such is the protestant work ethic that no one has sympathy for me. In the eyes of others poverty due to unmployment is a just dessert for laziness. 

I don't care. But I really do care.

I dream of being loved and rich and respected but that is a castle in the air and not Leeds in Kent.. More like a castle in Spain, and seeing eggs in moonshine and a pie in the sky.

I'm sad. I mourn the loss of my mother. I mourn the loss of friends, too. 

I have one friend who I am sometimes ambivalent about, but that is all the love and respect in my life.

I talk to myself or mumble. I have conversations with people Id like to talk with. They are dialogues with friends and family that arenèt even nearby.

I listen to thoughts from people in heaven who I used to know when they were alive, but theycannot tell me anymore than I know or what to do about my life.

I listen for an angel or godès voice. I sometimes think I will perish, and would almost draw a circle and call for the devil.

I donèt know what else to do.