Image by [jazzalnero] via Flickr
I fight the urge to stay hidden in the shadows of yesterday. Strange it may be, but I feel comfort and surety in the past. I suppose it’s the familiarity that seems to appeal to me the most. Isn’t it strange how memories will take their own form, transforming from fact, at will.
The future holds little of interest these days, for the outlook is continuously bleak and ominous. It is with effort each day that I force myself forward, striving to outwardly wear, that mask of cheerful contentment. While at the same time doing all in my ability to attract the least amount of attention possible. Yet, at days end, it is only a mask… a fabrication and falsehood… What does that make me, a fictitious character?
I am trying to push the mask away, and see what happens. It’s not easy sometimes, for I find myself in a state of self judgment all to often. It is not in my nature to dwell on the misgivings and bad fortune of fate. Yet I find myself drawn back to it more, I’m sure, than is healthy. I’m trying hard to open my thoughts up, and share them, it is with trepidation I do so. Perhaps with getting them out in the open, I will be able to examine them, and find the fault that is surely there, just under the surface.
“However much we would adore the past it will forever die in the future with us.”