Having found myself at the eye of several things tugging at me, I left one in pursuit of the other: Happiness. Fulfillment. Distractions. I write this with the knowledge that I've lost, and I've lost in so my ways. I'm back and I've nothing to show for my departure. I tried not to go back. Yet here I am, stripped of everything else but what skill is given me. There is peace. A sense of comfort to be had that is not unlike the ease one finds when one talks to one's self. The question, however, is whether or not I have grown. Or have I degenerated.
maybe it's not about growth or digression but just getting enough scars to become a writer. i live for these moments, spiral. allow me to live vicariously through you!
ReplyDeletethe thought of scarred not scared came randomly a couple of days ago, nyl. :)
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