Deep Thoughts: The Past

i don't have the kinda of life anyone normal would wish to have. it's filled with lotsa of words, not much else.

it has a past. as most lives do. part of that past being, well, people. people who want things. or else crave things i once provided them.

this compulsion to write has never done me any good. it's just left trails of blood for the vultures to follow.

i tired to understand them, but i never did. broken sails in the wind trying to move crippled ships.

they'd lay there stiff as zombies and wait for me to move them. it used to be easy, but i haven't the energy anymore.

so they just linger. smoke at the ceiling. foam on the tips of waves. waiting to be broken.

just speak. say something. or else leave. leave and don't force me to remember again. how it felt to think it was possible. how devastating it was to realize it never was.

because we are who we mistook for. we are everything we were used for then. we are every mistake we can't reconcile. every loss we can't amend.

if you're gone, then be that now. and if you're not, then show me how.

i don't need something to belive in, but i do need something, even if it hurts. i do need something i can trust.

the past was us. how we tried to be. but now is so very different.


  1. Who did you try to understand? The words written and lived; or the vultures?

    In response to your writing being only a compulsion that has never done you any good; that's sad.

    Doesn't that say something to you? That maybe you should experiment with something else? Why write such intense and emotional thoughts if they are not releasing you from the angst that you may feel.

    I know that you said that your writings are mostly embellishments. sure fooled me.

    I see a young woman that hangs on to her past.

    A past that doesn't allow her any freedom.


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