This is very much a dead page at this point. I logged in after so long and I cannot believe just how much time has passed. I haven't written a poem in months (and years) and I don't recognise the ones I did write. It's more like I can't recognise the version of me who wrote them. While I am typing all of this, I am driven by this strong urge to post it when this could easily remain a draft or even a journal entry. I don't expect any views on this post and that's fine. I am not rising from any ashes...this is no rebirth. This is just me reminiscing about everything I used to feel so deeply about and wondering where it all went. Is this complacency? Is it nonchalance? I don't want to answer.
I am not older and wiser.
I am just trying to be someone who I think the 21 year old me wanted to become.
.
~ aranya













