perhaps i have changed too much from the girl i used to be. i, who sits in the same bus, goes through the same route as she once did, i do not feel how she once used to.
there's a parasite leeching on for dear life, my own self. my thoughts, my feelings, my actions, they're all of that parasite. a seeping dark energy filling my pores, her life is no longer hers.
a glimpse into a realm, not of her mother's, or father's. not of the good world, or that of her family and neighbors. it is a realm of a great dynasty of ill perpetrators, rough gangs, criminals, drunks, and her very own friends.
i feel a profound sense of shame, guilt, and regret— however so rarely — for who ive turned out to be, for what i've made of her, my old self. there is a dilemma over the question of who am i, and what will i make of my past self? however will i go back to her?
i miss her, i yearn and beg for her. a deep pool of self-wrath sits on my chest. i cannot handle this pain, i shy away from it, nay, bet my last lie to avoid it entirely,
awareness is a mortal failure. i cannot be aware any longer without losing my mind. there is rage, and deep sadness now. i can do not much more, besides pray it all goes away.
i am sorry, my love.
[a.n.: this new change has been difficult .]
