Why do the most dysfunctional appeal to me the most? Is it possible that I actually prefer disillusionment? I confuse myself...! Is this a defense mechanism to ensure survival? How strong is this fear of disappointment? Enough to ensure starvation?
I have attempted to rationalize, but I remain unsatisfied. Why? The clock ticks like the antagonistic plot of the works of Poe. Yet my standards become more impossible. Without outside influence, I cling to the most ill suited and merely subject myself to what's well. The prospect of being adored...a momentary fixation at best.
I have written optimistic dissertations of my past tormentors; accurate, yet few, of the noble. Peace does not impress...Inspiration emerges from the clarity of struggle.
I defy the accusation that I create discordance - or this relationship would be the same as those past. What I am accustomed to is not of my initial choosing, only my perseverance and patience - more deserved in this case, but in short supply. Once dire, I always manage to escape...this time, to another cage, where the door is open - yet I stay inside...
What is free? When so many dreams are impossible alone; when so many priorities occupy the same ranking; when decisions reside in limbo indefinitely, awaiting sentencing from supporters.
Have I been imprisoned for so long that I have forgotten how to live?
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