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I float above the world, catapulting towards an idea.

Who does that?

Who leaves everything behind for a dream, when the inevitable outcome is the pain of failure?


Running from myself is quite the opposite of what I’m doing. Being left with simply my thoughts for two months will either make me insane or finally force me to begin to understand the mind I live inside of.




That stupid word has been rolling through my head for what has seemed like centuries. Mostly so I wouldn’t be, but why else would someone think about it so goddamn much.


It feels good to think I’m gay, that is while I’m alone in my room, but then I walk out the door and I remember the reason all over again of why I was afraid to admit to it. The judgement, the otherness, that will inevitably befall me forever.


So embrace or suppress, that is the fork in the road.