I feel and sense something; I don’t know what I am trying to say.
I do not even see the need to pray.
Truly, I feel I am connected and confident in the way that I live my life…
I want to write on poetic format, in a rhyming manner.
But I find it at this time healthier and easiest to write in this form.
Sentence and structure.
I remember as a child, being locked inside of a closet. I still cannot remember what I did.
Perhaps, it was bad.
Perhaps, it was troublesome…
Perhaps I was a troubled boy.
But the damage was done repeatedly, and crazily, to my mind and soul.
I do not complain, no.
I rationalize and adopt a philosophy to work through the turmoil.
Stoicism.
I was born to be this way.
I was born to be a stoic.
That is who I am.
That is how I keep from going insane.
Keep from succumbing to drastic pain…
I think of Franz Kafka every now and then, and I think about his life.
I scoff in a sense…
You do not know pain, my dear friend.
