Volatile

My life shows a clear pattern of total unpredictability. I am fizzled with the idea of change, tainted by the whims to become volatile. I change not because I want to, but because it’s a hot-wired section of my being, erupting like magmas of volcanoes in the most uncertain of times. My voices, becomes echoes and the words I write still shock me. Yes I know, am undependable, but I am the only loyal friend you’ll ever get. Tomorrow may take me away, leaving shadows of myself imprinted on the cupboards of your mind, stealing into your nights evoking hatreds of me. Of course I deserve it. I am an endless dreamer, hiking on an endless journey. Creating. Making. Repairing. My mind is devoured by an infinite list of desires “To-Do”. I am the interjection laying in-between quixotism and realism. I loathe myself, I love myself. I know myself, am a stranger to myself. Thou I may change in a constant infinite of ways, for I can’t undo it, am always going to reminiscence the passions inflated by the people I met. When I love you, when I love a person, I love them forever.

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