128 days since I’ve scrawled along a line or 2,
Enough numbers though but do I really have the words?
This has been the question I’ve asked myself for years now,
I have these desires but do I have the materials that are required to create?
Am I just hacktivist of the English language,
A mere blasphemer of the religion that is Context.
Enough with the feathery language.
Enough has been a common word in my mind lately.
I don’t really know why,
But even while I have occasional desires
it seems like I’ve reached the point of oversaturation with many things.
Many dates and ways of traveling can be had in life,
But will we actually go?
Is fear or possible confusion worth your time?
I say just grab the duffle and boarding pass,
And forget about the ground below until you get to wherever is the final stop.
I thought I was lost recently,
But I realized that being found isn’t something that is always desirable.
Among personalities both familiar and new,
You occasionally hide who you might be.
Although I’ve become more skilled at hiding from myself
Rather than hiding from others.
I blurt out facts of intimate knowledge early into the process of getting know one another,
And before I know it horror has overtaken the possibility of friendship or even camaraderie.
But is this something to be troubled by or looked at as a helpful process of preventing time invested into a pointless relationship?
This question continues to paralyze and excite me, with each social situation I encounter.
The worst part about questions, though,
Is that we sometimes find the answer.