Holding on to what’s in the past and reaching so far into what might be in the future- I feel like I’m breaking into millions of little pieces spread out all over the ground I used to call home. Yet I do not wish to gather myself into a whole again as much as I really want to spread myself further out and provide myself with a thousand and one opportunities. What you make for yourself is what you get out of life. No point in trying to put the pieces back together and trying to make sense of its entirety, when you can have loads and loads of pieces making sense, in different senses. Why have one when you can have many? All pieces will make sense eventually.
My walls are taking one step closer to me every day, forcing my pieces to slowly gather, like a puzzle I really just want to smash in the wall; my pieces will be spread in the global arena before they ever become a solid unit. I promised myself that, and I trust the person I call “me”, she has not let me down hitherto and I am proud of her. Getting a slight claustrophobic feeling when I wake up and smell the daylight, my mind wanders a bit, and I settle with the notion of placing one of my pieces in the mellow beauty of a London night.
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