Searching for a new style that much better defines my thoughts and reveries. Need to get beyond the embarrassment of what they may think or how the judgement will pass. It’s not necessarily that interesting or engaging but perhaps reveals the broken nature of who I am or better – what I’ve become.

How truly comfortable are most of us in our true skins? And do the overly confident louts truly count? They do, and they’re far too numerous to discount. But what do they feel regarding compassion and empathy? I don’t want to judge but I hypocritically do, and often. All while battling the reality that seethes within, that darkness that oozes mental pus so fluidly.

The me I long to be does not exist. It’s a fantasy I’ve carried since adolescence that has only festered and evolved into the other side of this door that lacks a key. Or, until the last gasps of sun and moon are exhaled in my darkened sanctuary. The portal into that final rest that has mercilessly beckoned for far too long. Still that question remains as to what may lurk on that illusive other side that has baffled the wise for eternity? It’s the moment before that very first orgasmic release that unveiled the true meaning of the rest of your existence. The ultimate key to the cosmos. Perhaps that la petite mort was where it all ends. That beautiful note. All complete with a smile.