The innocence within humans, hidden beneath a staunch resolute exterior. When I find it in myself I feel misunderstood. I know it doesn't matter because being understood never creates the reaction I anticipate. Silence freezes time, but nothing can stop the flow. Thoughts that are familiar, ideas that don't seem new. Tugging and pulling in opposite directions. From a center, what is there? By pulling on it trying to get more I move further away from the center. Sitting next to it not moving I find vigor, while feeling less alive.
It's not what you think it's what you believe. Patricia '96
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