Don't stare
In my hand there is power, in my mind there is no conviction to use it. I have the power to end all suffering afforded to me by this unkind world. The power to summon all the memories of those I yearn, those embedded in the deepest crevices of my being so that even when the rain taps at my window during my lonesome slumber I remember the warmth of their affection with ease. It would be so tremendously complementary to my happiness if only I yearned company. I dread being cast into the confines of everyone's memory, I dread making any lasting impact on such perfect creations with my blemished hands. I find no comfort in seeing the ilk of my filth spilling into the habitus I inhabit so I inhibit interactions. No I am not coy, just cautious. Moving like a self-aware bull in a china shop, proud of the vastness of my stature and presence yet not oblivious to the threat it poses. I don't like the limelight yet I somehow find myself taking center stage. Interpret these as not the w...
