Recently I have admitted several truths to myself. That I have lied to myself for most of my life. I've allowed myself to live in the illusion that if I am a good person and do good for others then life will be good. the truth is shit never really gets better, it just changes shape. People will not always like you. They'll hold tight to their beliefs like air for lungs because without it they'll probably die.
I used to embrace life so deeply, with a fullness that was overwhelming. Now I accept the mediocrity it has become. I embrace the feelings of anguish I feel inside because otherwise I'd probably give in to the voice that whispers softly in my ear. She entices me with promises of peace in a place where suffering is unknown. so within my shell of solitude, I cry and write, expressing all that I know in an attempt to empty the space. I pretend rainbows exist and smile anyway.
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