Just as the anger and disgust bubbled up her spine, just as she was about to revel in anguished breakdown, all substance and reason behind it vanished. She could find no justification, and all the anger she had towards it turned in on herself instead. Why she had brought it unwillingly (or perhaps it wasnt so reluctant?) back into her mind, she did not know. Perhaps it was the same concept where though we know something is disgusting, we're compelled to look smell or taste it, regardless? A morbid curiosity.
I feel like somewhere along my life there was a shift. Suddenly nothing was for fun any more, it was all necessary. Suddenly I'm bothering with what others think, afraid to link any connotations I deem negative to my being. Why do I care what people I've never met, who'll forget they ever saw me, think of me; this obscure stranger in their peripherals. It's a warped sense of mind and place, seeing the space around me in my mind's made up ways. So I stray away from everyone, isolating myself unwittingly, turning them against me. Self fulfilling prophecies, I succeed in creating this reality. I need to break free from my mind's mentalities, with which negativity has propelled me. So I've started a new sport. I call it neighborhood night dancing. Donning headphones and heading out alone to the empty streets as the city sleeps, and moving to the beat. Letting it compel me towards a freedom long gone missing. Letting go is an art. Complete release is a tough ...
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