On the outside people see the attachments and assume happiness. But what is happiness? An absence of sadness? And isn't sadness needed: to put things into perspective?
I haven't been able to write lately.
I've been stuck in this space between childhood and adulthood, hesitating, holding onto the past like my life depended on it. After all, isn't that me?
The other day I said to someone that I am the same person today that I have always been.
What does that mean? they asked me.
I don't know.
It is what I am in the midst of finding out...
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