I ponder the agony of zeitgeist (when the past is your absolution). Sanguinity, comes with accepting the impossibility of denial anymore, then acknowledgement that inside is a heart highly susceptible to equal parts love and fury, a quality hardly a guise but instead a choice. I debate the conflict of inability to tolerate the reality of family yet with shameful irony carry around an innate desire to propagate the nostalgia of love and kindness. Many a time i wonder if the less-than-natural reflex in choosing to smile at the life i cannot choose would make me less of a candidate in the eyes of others. As it turns out i smile a lot more than i think i do and pocket the tantrums i cannot throw. I worry if when my words don’t come together that people won’t read between the lines. These days i keep busy being a waitress and also a sappy mess (don’t read my diary, u’re in every line). i don’t fight needlessly anymore


update: tired, heartache


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