My inner child, my innocent self, and the person I would be if I were unencumbered...
whatever we call it - it's thoroughly bewildered by this "modern world" that it's having to navigate. I feel like a mechanical clock, or even a sundial, trying to keep up with all of the digital watches. My stories to live by have become so distorted, so polluted with garbage that I question if there ever was a fairytale ending.
and yet, i create more trash talk...
i'm suffocating under blankets of anxiety, and it feels like I'm dismissed as just a silly ghost.
i don't know how much of the above I really believe, and how much is me trying to play with words, hoping for some dramatic effect. i do feel out of place, in the present world, more often than not, though...
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