“Back then, the birds outside seemed to call out for help, chirping incessantly as if I was missing something important. There it was again, that sinking feeling. My mind was too covered in cannabinoid cobwebs to identify what was really wrong. Looking back, the best I could say was that I was worried about “some strange abstract concept that no inconsequential amount of words could ever express.” The words bubbled up in my mind like a stew left out to simmer, bursting in impermanent moments of intense anxiety. I forget exactly who I used to be, and more importantly, if that’s a bad thing. It can’t possibly do me good to revel in the unfulfilled fantasies of what remains of my childhood self. The things I dream about aren’t the same, but I still feel that hope sometimes. All throughout June, sweat dripped down my nose as if my body was crying out from the inside. What a strange feeling. ”

— Excerpt of Note 35: New World. Quote from 2021 version.