The mechanical noise of an air system clicks intently overhead, and I sit, just barely moonlit, fully intent on proving myself a capable person beyond any rational doubt.
It is an awe-inspiring thing to watch myself gradually drift away from idyllic notions of "romance" and "passion." I have begun to reserve these things as necessities for utilization not in interpersonal relationships, but, instead, in the realms ethic and organization.
Honestly, I have yet to see the negatives.
-I do not feel cloudy or overwhelmed.
-I am not an emotional wreck.
-I still have feelings, but none which interfere with who I am and how I resort to handling myself.
-I feel as stoic as I did in high school.
-I am suddenly (and very suddenly, at that) detached from the notion of "loneliness."
The less-than-calculated movement of my life thus far is presenting itself as a rather forward and eager ploy at molding my future through the hands of others. My design; their tools.
In earnest, I have never been crafty.
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