My very self is distilled in this murky, petty fall. I don't answer to disregard, I don't recognize indifference. I act back at my best. I used to live at the surface of my existence, now I dwell in the depths. I am not far from indulging in all of my self righteous impulses, as they come all too frequently. I am only a membrane from breaking all that I have left. They can eat around a tart, of lemon sort, but of the center, dissuaded. For the city gate only guards the heart of the city, and all amongst it lie prone to society. Is it to be advertised thus? A waning front, oust it fades. Does he care not of sobriety? Of it, the faults of a deteriorating frailty... I must leave myself, abased in constant continuum. To be the best at something you were supposed to be, or to be the worst at something no one wanted you to be?... To raise oneself, you must not let others predict you, or they will be standing on your side of the scale. Knowledge is too absolute. Just the way they have you believe. I feast on my thoughts, my words.. The things I have only exist in my imagination as I write my soul on this screen.

I hate this.
I hate us.
I hate what I have to say to stay with you.

I hate what I have to conceal.
I hate what I have to act out.
I hate the person I've become.

I hate what you make be want to be.
I hate what you've made me.
I hate lying to myself and the world.

I hate the days.
I hate the nights.
I hate thinking I will never change.

I hate giving in.
I hate holding back.
I never want to tell you the truth.

Do I mean none of it, only to stay alive? I glide around the expectations placed upon me, I sneak around the only excitement I find worth living for. I only remain technical for the brutal honesty I emit. That day in the woods; that plaguing kiss... You tricked me into much more than that. Late that night, we mimicked a love, but I would never give in. Little do you know, for not even I know. The memories of us escape me, as if they were never there. We have cheated love, only to float... We have cheated society, and wander around without a care. Are we even us, if not recognized by more than ourselves? A rock falls off a cliff, but if no one observed this, did it really even happen?

For the first time in a long time I wasn't repulsed by the situation I was dealt. Expectations can ruin fun... As I don't take well to my soul, I am still amongst the desires of my contentment. There is a surprising relief with you, that I cannot explain. I wish none of it to be furthered, but only reserved in its state. How can I be so satisfied with this anti-progressive establishment? It confuses me, the peace I feel in the silence, the nonchalant bearing. How must something so wonderful be inherently bad and rebellious? The surrounding complications come to no avail within this ignorance. But how volatile is my state of mind? Am I never to depress myself in a matter further had it already wept upon me? Only by the census, terminated long before my reasoning. I was contented by my lonely countenance, had it ever to coincide with myself? But, I am forever astonished by my placings in this world. Why am I of this existence, and not another? How do souls come into existence if not by God? Questions for the skeptic, to be of another confusion. If ever an answer for every question, questions would lose their interest. If but all relativity diminished, would not life then lose it's lingering hold. Grey; the color of a thought. If an answer, never a thought.