Untitled.

It’s been a while. Hard to write when things are okay. Things are okay. My mind is stable. I wonder if in health I am losing myself. My passion, my fervency have greatly diminished. Who am I without my insanity, without my pains? I am a more whole person I suppose, I hope to suppose. I have little hope these days. I am rebuilding my dreams, and that takes time and courage and a lot questioning, which is scary to do. Perhaps I am changing. Perhaps my dreams are changing. What happens to a dream deferred? Hughes, I think it dries up like a raisin in the sun rather than explode. I feel mine at least have shriveled than erupted. It is late, it is time for bed. 

About Undecided Pseudonym

A woman who remembers enjoying writing.
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