I woke up melancholy with the thought that the rest of my life will comprise of conclusions henceforth, and no longer transitions.

My conviction of finality was spurred by reality; responsibility. Responsible heartbreak is a broken stent—we are let to believe they are medical tools to prevent cardiac events, not realizing intervention is the cardiac event.

I need to make a hundred dolls. What will I find next?

It is the last phase of an era, they said about the North Node conjunctions for 8/1 and 8/7. Time to make a decision and step through a new door. (Cindy)

I am at a doorway. The doorway excites me. Excitement spurs urgency. Urgency is therefore desire, pitched. The doorway is erotic. And as long as the doorway stays open, I can live in the visual metaphor of never collapsing the either sides, but if I want to execute change, some doors may need to close.

My melancholy is not about conclusions versus transformations, I realized, after sitting with the feeling for a full day. It is conclusions and transformations.

I am ending myself in the interest of becoming myself.