It started around, oh say birth. Supposedly I haven't noticed until this very moment. Truly it may or may not be possible that I have known all along. Which is real.
From the earliest memory I have there has always been this nagging feeling from the depths of my throat. Holding on tight to fight off any abnormal air trying to escape from my body. The only ambitions that have ever stuck with me are the aspirations of complete and total complacency.
Close your eyes. Pretend that the things you know are real. The emotion. The crime. The desperation. The sadness. The danger. These things. They are all things you can control. You do this to reality. They smack it in the face and hold it down with both hands. You shove it all in a little pink box. Lock it up and put it in your craft drawer. Wearing the key on your wrist.
Just close enough. It never quite makes it into your hand. The option is there. This fight is internal partially due to external situations. The phrase escapes me at this point. Maybe at a later date. I have just got to run you see.
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