Pic of the day: This is my bedroom. Too bad I'm afraid to sleep there. It's a rather cozy place (apart from the weapons) and I have it all to myself.
I'm feeling afraid tonight. In fact, I'm writing this in the middle of a panic. One contributing factor would be that breathing through my nose (as I usually do) creates a loud flute noise. It would have been funny, except it keeps my mind on my breathing, and that's evidently not a good idea. I'm afraid that I'll eventually not be able to breathe at all.
I'm tired, but I dare not sleep for fear that I won't wake up again. I'm dizzy, and my legs are shaky. To top it all, I had this dry coughing fit, feeling as if I had inhaled powder. I ran outdoors and breathed the night air for a while. But this is Norway; I can't sleep outside. I think. I may consider it though. In short, I feel terrible. Objectively I know that it usually takes more to kill off a human. People have failing hearts and lungs full of soot and they still keep clinging to life for months. But subjectively I feel like I'm dying and I wish I could spend my last hours with someone who knows a merciful God. But it's the middle of the night, and people are sleeping. God himself is supposedly awake, but the line up there seems to be broken.
I hate panic attacks. But at least I guess it teaches me to have mercy on those less fortunate than me. It is not like others are free from affliction. It's just that I'm used to be. I'm sure there are those who think I could need a lesson in humility. Well, I am studying the lessons of life. I'm just really nervous for the exam.
If you're still reading and not fed up, may I recommend a thoughtful and honest journal which I think deserves more attention than it has got? A Malaysian reporter and a christian in a Muslim country (which may not be quite as exceptional as a celibate Norwegian but still pretty unusual) has once again updated the Scribe's daily text.
Visit the Diary Farm for the older diaries I've put out to pasture.