A place of burnt out dreams and fictional things; of pure bliss and aching, looming sadness. A realm for all of the twisted, scattered things, “forget me nots”, upon fragile wings. With severed hopes, diminished dreams– so maddening. No longer your “play thing”, yet still within the confounds of Divine placement. Into the depths and in the grasp as we have seen and no longer see fit. How beautiful I was, to misunderstand it all, and how intrigued were you who couldn’t see the Vision anymore. How ignorant they were to cast me aside when I held the missing link. And how useless and tiresome it was to convey this to them; hearts hardened from overuse with minds stiffened by every reality we so choose. How grotesquely empty and somehow, still, how full of hope to which we had grown so comfortable in watching pass by knowingly. And so I endured more of the intoxicating pain these devils brought me endlessly, always seeking out desperately the last laugh or final job; an unfamiliar twist of the knife of certainty in a world terribly unsure of itself. I, in turn, cared less of such detached thoughts, sunken patterns, regrettable dispositions and overall desire to fully initiate the teachings; broken, scattered tablets.
Your web of deceit and a growing mistrust forever accompanied me, although they seemed to play a part in this, too. Perhaps it was in always catching me at the wrong time, when I was too honest, or otherwise lacked the love they themselves were lacking, too. “It has always been within you.” Regardless, six weeks separated me from my dreams, and myself, from the “person you fell in love with”. I had to free myself from your expectations at some point, and allow myself some space to simply be, as I was created, without the mockery and shame to which their criticisms used to burden me. Now weakened, and growing tired of an even weaker majority’s rule, or their attempts to further weaken me. Primarily it was the sea of lies for which you soared above as so many sank below, and for these reasons your fleeting accusations upon second-third chances gave me a new outlook– freshly stoned and still heavily taxed.
I wondered if this sheet of paper would mean anything in a couple of days, “so what do you think?”, woke me up. Everyone deserved an outlet though, and they were just thoughts, anyway. I was too powerful, and they were still abusing theirs. I was standing alone in the middle ground, after all of that, your only response(s) were “she’s out of her mind”, but in reality I was just an old soul with mixed emotions. Old as the hills, or something.