May 9th, Year of Silence

I am happy, or I think I am, or it is the safe thing to write. If I am experiencing something in the positive spectrum of emotions, it is of the fragile variety. It is easily defeated, when other emotions decide to compete against it. I can say that I am empty with far more conviction. I do not know if this is a better state to be in, than when a chaotic mind quickly destabilized me.

There is no one and nothing left to fight. This presents a problem, when all I have known is adversarial work. My hands have long turned into clenched fists.

When I say that I have not seen conflict in much time, I speak of no more than a day. Momentary peace has always felt eternal. It is not something I trust. So, if there are weapons in sight, and a thing to aim at, it is exactly what I will do. Only yesterday, finding myself experiencing the anxiety that clear skies can produce, I instigated an argument with the only person I know who is consistently an easy shot. My mother.  When she tired of listening to me pointing out every obvious character flaw she possesses, I ordered her to bite her tongue.

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May 9th, Year of Silence

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