Emboldened hunger

I am not myself today, and I haven’t been for awhile.
And who’s to know this isn’t the self I’ve always really been, convinced of otherwise ’til now?
It feels strange and heated. Like the seats in my car as I roll through sprawling neighborhoods with streets woven through them like a cat worn ball of thread.
It’s starting to feel more comfortable than ever it has; As though regret were a mere whisper upon the horizon of memories.
The reality is that I have apologized way too long to the space around me for existing. I’m here for a reason, whether to solve some spiritual riddle or contribute to the chaos, I’m still discovering. It seems to consist of each.

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