Then again, you wouldn't know. The daily honey drip of bitter thoughts. You do not know that it dramatizes you into a melancholic puppet. That maybe the way you embrace the world is why you are ruined. You wouldn't know if I whispered to you. Sure, you would gently nodd and agree with a lethargic hmm but you would play in that stage all over again.

No, you will never perceive the sovereign power of your wild fear. You cannot fathom how a perfectly pretty life can be so strangling. Moreover, you will not know how in swirling moment, you are in strange solace of your world. That despite yourself, the blue sky, moon, green trees and all that is considered real, are the only breath of joy. No wonder you stumble and lose much more than a perfectly sane adult would. No wonder you are still a child of your past.

No wonder you still live in me.

Yours even as I fear to be.

Fake Name's Dear Diary