thought for the day

It was as if the paper I printed my goals on was alight before I began. How was I to know it’d soaked in a scentless-incendiary oil that would consume me as if I’d never been? Should I have foreseen my dreams, shimmering like so many photons in precious stones, were in reality razor-sharp shards of glass? Should I have let go before I was shredded? I could not. The sparkle was mesmerizing — my own mental Milky Way.

I’ve little left and nothing to fall back on. Loss and failure have marked me. Other’s can smell it on me even in cyberspace. Finally accepting that the outskirts of normalcy was as close as I’d ever get to the cookie-cutter world saved my life. Was the price too high? I’m free to try and find a path with enough peace to keep me from the unthinkable. Conversely, as the desire has gone, so has my ability to fake it. My disdain for squares and their world is glaring. I scare people. That’s dangerous.