My stomach since last night has been in knots or some sort of tight discomfort. A passing light burning on my right arm, it comes and goes. Brings my attention to a reminder of the patterns of my life. The irreversible out of my hands pattern.
I've been thinking a lot of two particular sets of words said by important men, admired men, good men.
"It is necessary to the happiness of a man that he remain faithful to himself"
"Our lives begin to end the day we are silent about the things that matter"
I've been thinking a lot about dying. And about other things too. About loyalty, faithfulness, humanity, love...what it means to love someone. I have nothing profound to say. No clarity. Only a feeling of loss and exhaustion, a hunger for something to give way to the faith I don't shake. Something to make the good in me have reason.
The next step in this familiar dance? running, only to find the same thing. I'm tired and my eyes are dry. I will be still for now, I will childishly wait for change, because you don't find it when you go looking, and your actions don't give it might to fly.
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