I was there…

Occasionally, I take a peek at past journals and journal entries.  I wrote this around 9-10 years ago as I was searching.

Ah – what a glorious thing to be back in the dark, wicked night; itself  a place that provides harbor to such terrors that are born in the core of my fears.  Within this blood-fed battleground, carcasses of my dreams, lost and forgotten lay alongside conquered fears and other foes to the self.

Man, was I angsty!  I know I was there, but I cannot even imagine being there again.  I mean, life is hard now, but it’s not that hard.  That seems so melodramatic–“Dark, wicked night?”  Really?  I suppose I have always been quite the sophist; quite the dramatist.

Carcasses of my dreams?  Come on, now.

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