I am not angry enough about my past to admit it as time permits I do and so I act to dismiss myself out of it meaninglessly.
So it's safe to say my past is a sad fate of bewilderment. It has lead me here to nowhere. And yet I find satire in my sad criticism of it.
I fast-forward my presence of mind entirely. And I look right through my past as some form of trickery and deceit played on me.
My past as I recollect it now is a vessel of misfortune. What I trust in what I know today is an advanced science. A trivial recollection.
When I think of my past, my inhibitions relate to many different things attached. And the liberation I partook in is a whole other matter.
When I look at my character I pick up signals, fragments of my past, and I fail to realize I am not that person any longer.
I don't know if my personality has changed because most people I know wouldn't care to notice it if I did. That is a sad fate of reality.
One can only ask for self discovery as something amazing to behold. Not a bad thing to adjust myself to. The past snickers.
- Marco
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