There are times when I wish to connect with my past self.
Visions of staying up late into the night...a flashing screen reflecting off of the glass before my eyes.
Nostalgia and not wanting to age is something I often intertwine.
I sometimes feel content in this world Iím living in, most times not.
Nothing feels like enough.
Things donít feel...quite right.
Itís like thisÖthis void wonít recover from what was taken from it.
The ebb and flow of so much rage within such.a small.child.
I donít think Iíll ever forget.
The feelings of loneliness and regret.
Feeling like I was drowning when all I wanted to see was a little light.
My heart aches for longings that have passed...and oh how the years have passed.
Severed ties and tethered feathers, prevention of flight.
Lacking in dreams now that my mind once flourished within.
I used to tell myself stories before I went to sleep.
Bursting at the seams with wonderous adventures and the many people I would meet before I sleep.
Memories I could not keep.
Now I canít think.
Imagination remains only as an experience of child-like glee.
When I try to reach that place I once was, I only see the hollow shell that is myself...staring back.
Cold, dead eyes.
Could you believe someone tells me my eyes are beautiful?..
I have always hated silence.
I have always hated darkness.
Why is that all I can see...when I now look at me?