My wish to drop the world is gradually turning into a decision. More, a commitment. As the end of the year is drawing closer, it is only becoming stronger. And it is eliciting ever-greater joy. Day by day, I feel my enthusiasm growing. Chances are that it will peek in about a fortnight. Indeed, it is shaping into a New Year’s resolution of sorts. Even though I am not at all happy with my tacit acceptance of the calendar, which strikes me as entirely arbitrary, I am aware of the fact that I have long accepted it by shaping my writings into yearbooks that begin on the first of January and end on the last of December. So, I have my next yearbook in mind. I can feel it already. If I am not deluding myself, it will soon show telltale signs of my liberation. That is what I mean by dropping the world, anyway. The world I have in mind is only a shell bereft of substance. And it is cracking and crumbling all around me.

Addendum (April 7, 2018)

Wonderful, this. The premonition. Looking back, it took me no less than five years to drop the world for true. Still, it was in the air for quite a while. And I could feel it at times. I could smell it and taste it, too. Dropping the world turned into a veritable passion. Nay, obsession. Which is why I am delighted to come across this piece on one of my uncharted journeys through my writings. The obsession behind me ever since my liberation a couple of years ago, reading about it is kind of soothing. Goodbye, world! And good riddance!