Vent

10th Sept: Times like these I wish to emulate the likes of Tony Soprano in terms of power and an assertion of terror upon others whereby beating the daylights out of another would amount to no repercussions, but merely a vent for catering the self.

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Spur

1st Sep – I simply cannot say “I love you” for it would be grave misjudgment to interpret profound gratitude as simply a declaration of sentimentality on my part and a grand injustice to you, which at the moment present is nothing more than an exaggerated four lettered word. No. Presently, the emotions that run deep in me are dictated by a core, a terminus if you will, of courses our differing paths meant to cross some three years past. The tender words for you are conscious but inexplicable, amplified by a silence of the good graces I hold you in. In my scarce expressions I hope you perceive that which may be inaudible, illegible. And in the brevity of an abrupt end you may understand the flux of thanks I owe you discreetly.

Leech

There is a derogatory tape to my name that I would much like to get rid off. It takes the blame for my misfortunes rightly so, for they root from its very existence. It besmirches my name and attaches to it a label that hinders self progression. It is much stagnant and what follows is repugnant in nature. Oft evaded when writ , but formality imposes its functioning as that of a parent which must be necessitated at the time of documentation. There is a certain relativity between ones existence and ones name; the latter donned perhaps merely as a tribute to where one belongs from or to. A seed is borne and the glory emanating from a last name is propelled towards its entire live-long life. Carried on, blessed. Rarely, one finds oneself harboring stringent feelings for mere alphabets, enmeshed. I am that rare ridicule, seeking the day for an unblemished, lone signature, perhaps with love.