672

672

My thoughts are my only real company. They hide me away where no one can reach me. They can be dark and old, full of mystery and wonder, and delicate and beautiful. They keep me safe from the dangers of a cruel, hopeless world.

672

My mind is a jumble... I mean, a jungle. Thoughts and dreams grow and branch out and hang and fall. I am the king of this jungle. I am the lion that roams without fear.

672

I am myself reliant upon self-reliance. I stand alone. Alone, but not lonely? re: lions. I myself suffer lions, or is it suffer lie-ons?

672

Clear-cutting is an awful way to explore a jungle. Wandering aimlessly into the depths of the unknown is equally and oppositely as awful. Explore, but trail your crumbs, lest the lions take you. Alliance with the lions. Suffer the silence.

672

Solitude is silent. It is peaceful, and calming... and dead. A jungle with no life is no jungle. It is a petrified forest.

672

I've slashed and burned these trees time and time again, yet they still continue to grow. I want this soil barren. I want these thoughts dead.

672

That's how many days

          since I last held you.