As I sit as the only person awake in my home, I start to think to myself, "I haven't written from my soul in so long." "Am I still capable of bearing myself to the world as I once did?" "Or have I become the reclusive man that those around me have predicted?" My soul is an open book to a world that some embrace, but so very many are afraid of. They believe that my torure, pain and angst will overcome them and swallow them in an abyss of darkness and solitude. This is why my words, my life has remained pictures and stories in my mind instead of written down or typed out. I fear for those who fear me. Though I try to reassure and give comfort, it leads down the same path to my solidarity. But I was once told that, "It does not matter who does not listen to your story, it matters on how you affect those who have. I realize that it has been a while since I took time to bear myself. Maybe now is the time to start letting go again.
Reason for writing:
Two years is a very long time to break from writing in my book. I forgot how good it feels.
Birth sign: Scorpio
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