If I were perfect, I would have made no mistakes. That’s not the way life goes and I am sorry.
I am a burden in my own world. Why you would want to be a part of that, I am not sure. Just leave me alone.
It is like the lyrics to that Sinatra song. ‘Regrets, I have a few. But then again, too few to mention.’
You can feel the heaviness.
I wish I came down into your life as a raincloud. My sunny days are misrepresented.
My life is swollen with pain. But that’s what I have become from trying to endure.
Give me another year. Give me more time away from you and from me. I am not made to be mobile everyday.
My essence is shaped in a cold cave. Society has no place for me.
But in due time, I breathe again. In due time, the rocks of my words become boulders I can sit upon.
Give me time. Give me lots of time to contemplate my life and where I fit in it.
Journalistic Writing
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