times.

and the way we change them.

sometimes it feels like this.

and yet, sometimes different.

so many complexities, or at least that’s what they seem to be. they’re really puerile, pedantic little things, so ultimately meaningless they deserve no attention at all.

i’ve tried so hard, for so long, to take the high road, i don’t really understand how i managed to let those who take the lower roads, pretending to be on higher roads than mine, drag me down.

sometimes, just moving with the music—swaying and letting the beat push through me—listening and feeling it in the grooves of my essence: these are higher orders of magnitude than the false dreams of the melancholy mythologies of half-dreamed ideals.

and it’s the same biochemical euphoria, but few seem to have noticed.

yes, it’s something different, where i’ve come to be.

. . . . . . .

times.

and the ways we are changed by them.

sometimes it feels like this.

and other times, it screams with the tension of all that is to come.

what so often i forget, is that the anticipation is the driving force of life.

but i have forgotten this for the last time.