Being alone is no problem. Until it is. At some point a swift change occurs in my pattern of thinking and all of the sudden, I need a her to fall asleep next to tonight. Someone to wake up next to tomorrow morning. Just so fucking needy. Like an infinite infant, always feeling under-fed, cranky from lack of sleep and malnourished from no consistent source of love.

Just simply going along with motions.

Going along with her, her and her. Forcing pieces to fit and the shapes aren’t even close. They don’t even have the same number of sides as the molds they’re being pressed against. No matter how many Lego castles you’ve once built, you are no real creator. You’re a counter-part to the created.

Here to ride along, alone, and view what destiny has in store.

Given the figment of choice but the shackled restraints of the “American dream” make it nearly impossible to grow. Stuck in a small pot, stifled with no footing.

This city was once a forrest, now uprooted and gentrified. We can’t let our souls be diminished to the same. For shame, generation X, for shame.