Darkness exists in places where I refuse to produce light

Buried Thoughts

A part of me I admire is gone. I suppose it’s no longer a part of me, then.  The things I care about do not run deep; they are shallow.  What happens when one puts out  a fire that fuels an appreciation for life?  And how does one ignite a spark all over again? I am longing for things that bring  me no lasting fulfillment; I am allured by pleasures that satisfy me only fleetingly. Curiosity, passion, self-awareness, morality, empathy, inquisitiveness– what are these to me? Foreign qualities, none of which I posses anymore.

A part of me I respect is gone. I suppose it’s no longer a part of me, then. If I were anyone else, I wouldn’t trust me. I wouldn’t  trust my word, my instincts, even my actions. The right word is obfuscated now. The genuine instinct is inundated by impulse. The just act is poisoned by…

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