The price of worth. Diction without care.

"The future is only an indifferent void no one cares about, but the past is filled with life, and its countenance is irritating, repellent, wounding, to the point that we want to destroy or repaint it. we want to be masters of the future only for the power to change the past." -Milan Kundera

At twenty-one, I learned the reality of the everlong cliche of broken hearts, emotions heightened to anger, hate, bitterness and regret without sacrifice, without discretion: it was what it was.

At twenty-two, I learned the price of self-worth and perhaps the most difficult things in life are the truths for which we cannot control: time, cancer, the choices of others

At twenty-three, I learned the reality and repercussions of the choices we choose to make, the price of momentary desires

At twenty-four, I learned some things are never meant to be reconciled: perhaps it's not whether someone else will forgive you for your actions, but rather if you can forgive yourself.

My existence these days can only be summed up as surreal. Loss of sanity, happiness as momentary leaps dotting the horizon.

I am from planet earth, of this I'm sure. Of only this I'm sure.