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Never again will this be final. I hope to hell I see what will become reality. My eyes become unfocused, my sense become specifically unspecified…I watch as most cradle their babies and wonder…most cradle their prizes with wonder…I hate and I laugh and I wonder… I can drift in and out like a mommy on independence day…like a fish out of water….not even knowing what I’m saying until it’s all complete. Then I allow reading it back. Then I am permitted to witness it back and watch it become black. I just keep writing, hoping that one day soon my journey will bring me back. Back to the moments in my life that caused happiness unknowing. That willed into existence such unbelievable unfocused joy. Such candid reality. I wish that I could send myself back. That I could just portal to another realm…to journey back…to feel that latency again. I floated, I tell thee, upon such benign disbelief. Such subtle expectancy. I hope to hell I can get back…I hope against all idols and Godliness that I could just go back. Go back to being ignorant. Back to having the world set before me…back to the playground… back to a land in which I was King, into a future that was yet to be written and yet to be cast… lain upon a shelf to be chosen at later dates by the same subtle joy. So many suffer, and yet I am too idle to rise above it all, and to ascertain my true potential. Yet so much holds me back…