thank you for providing a home to this nobody and making somebody out of me. thank you for the friends I've made along the way, some of whom I've had the good fortune to meet, or to make a commitment to meet. I can't believe this time is upon us - and I sure hope to see you all again very soon elsewhere.
I remember chasing butterflies in a simpler time Running myself blind trying to chase the impossible, Bright yellow and black and a million hues reigned Under the bright afternoon skies of my childhood.
I have walked emptily in the most beautiful gardens since A conflicted mind, never at peace with my awkward self - I shut myself in the cages of these screens so long ago, Oblivious to the beauty of all that I cannot possibly consume.
this body was but an empty shell - the wealth of all our experiences, collective and otherwise, only to be reduced to dust each time I set aside what wasn't mine. Before you came liking myself was a radical display, an outrage if you will, but only to myself, for you stop by and you're gone now, it's alright, perhaps I can plug the holes in my being with some self-care, pour all of the world's joy even if it seems unfair.
infinite, your ability to reach into the depths of my soul, colourless, your intent, with only your mania for a cloud, bright, your objectivity and the way you house a million stars, distant, yet so within reach - I think about you often, and not quite enough.
Hello old friend. I know I've burned a thousand bridges because of you, and hence, my ego, yes, but you've done quite alright for me for the most part. I know I've thrived when I've been most reassured and it helps that you've provided me some drive along the way.
there exist wounds we speak no longer of promises we made and no longer keep - and here we are now, hoping against all odds that our good intent is enough to redeem us, save us from the demons we lay to sleep, that there exists a spirit that will never stop fighting to hold on to us, even when we've all but abandoned hope.
visible or tangible - there will always be people who look at you with the same fog in their eyes. But if you know you've changed and you're committed to living this new life which entices you so, who is to tell you that you have not grown?