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peyton
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I read some today.
I don't even recognize me anymore.
I am so much more stale and boring.
I am happier.
I am more solid.
I less full of holes.
I am wondering severely, if life requires someone be plain to mesh.
I am happier plain.
I am content I have let so much of this go.
I am wistful for parts of the past.
I am sad that its time to grow up.
I am glad this part of me is archived somewhere.
I am virtually unknown where I am now.
I am surrounded by yellow and blue.
I am still hurt, deep down.
I am more of a scab now than a wound.
I am not so full of rage.
I am extinguished.
I am more cautious.
I am slower.
I am slower to act.
I am unsure what I've forgotten.
There were countless nights in the rain in the snow that are gone. They no longer exist. They no longer exist. I was the last person to remember them, and now I've forgotten. With that, they die. I will never get them back. I will never get those youthful days back.
I am afraid that with age I have turned into something vanilla.
I am engaged now, for real this time.
I am so very plain.
I am devoid of all my friends.
I am just a plain rock in the sand.
I am unsure.
I am not drowning anymore.
I am completely drowned.
The parts of me that were beautiful or unique are dead. I have let the world destroy them. They have burnt out. I'm just a lifeless shill, now. The volatile, flaming embers that made me different have been replaced with strong oak pillars of responsibility and routine. People can live here. People can live and work and be fruitful. There is nothing left unstable or dangerous. Those who once would conspire against this humdrum lifelessness have all faded into their own reclusion..
We can't survive like this.
the person I was cannot bear it
the only thought you can have while in pain is the thought to make it stop
I have made it stop. I'm just a stale piece of muted.
It's time to go. The fires are all out.
But I can't stop watching the little patter of my blood echo inside.
I'm sorry.
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090109
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