The rumbling critiques of a single act of violence against the backdrop of war shakes the greater ground, and I want nothing to do with it.
I know this space. It is a path of gentle darkness. Silky sadness. Mental stillness.
I felt my feet slipping out from under my mind yesterday.
I used to fight. But I have learned to embrace the loss of the narrator's voice.
Today is not special. Nothing is wrong, and nothing is right. I will walk through, and no one will notice that I'm not here.
Whatever brought me into this space will eventually wear itself thin. Until then, I will stroll beneath the blue, the sum of all my mistakes clutching the weight of all my successes.