Intermission

I swear I was going to have a lot to say after getting back from traveling, but weeks later and I can’t think of anything appropriate to this form of communication.  Maybe it’s time to close up shop?

I can’t find the steady ground under my feet. I can’t shake the words that shouldn’t even mean anything to me. I can’t stop feeling like a failure. I want to be free, and if this no longer a form of freedom I’d do better to keep masked privately and no more thought life displays.

I think I should put on my mob boss face mask and smile my way into hell, because being a good liar makes a better friend than being honest with people. Honesty has flaws, honesty shows flaws, and no one cares that honesty takes enormous strength. Maybe I’ve been wrong about who I’ve chosen to become, or maybe not. I’m fool for my beliefs, and yet I believe them anyways.

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