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Wrong Again

I have pity on who I used to be, and more understanding of why people are the way they are. I thought I was so noble in my authenticity, but I was just authentically useless: nothing but a bundle of frustrated dreams.

I still am.

I envy the ones who can let their light shine in all its blinding brightness and have everyone around them understand and love them for it, for what they are, what they stand for.

How many silent, dark roads have I taken, never knowing I was surrounded by other lonely travellers, all of them hiding their light too?

– June 2015

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