Tired. As the freedom fighters become the next gate-keepers one must admit all is just image. It meant something due to youth, not profundity. You’ve changed nothing when you age and stop change from happening. However, that’s not who I am anymore. The past seems to keep blurring into a future that is not mine, moving with stealth and indifference while I struggle to even figure out what is in the moment. What is the meaning of time when it feels like it has stopped? What is a “purpose” to the purposeless? What is a “reason” to the reasonless? I know what I am and am not, and I don’t know how I feel about that yet. Existence without occupation is decadence. 

Will I ever learn to face that and actually see myself?