Dearest past:
For as long as time has held me to its worrisome doom, I have been struggling with you. I am at a loss. A nervous wreck. A spontaneous combustible ready to burst and let go of my small semblance of normalcy. You have fed my fears and paranoia. My insecurities have been obliterated completely until there is no more to be had. I have no trust. I have love but am afraid to give and open up because of all that has happened at your whim. Friends and lovers have gone to the wayside all because of their broken promises and shredding words.
Lies told. Falsehoods believed. Rumors spread like a cancer or some other form of disease.
In a world where we're only guaranteed one thing (Death) you choose to blanket me in sadness, mistrust, and others misdeeds. Why am I so gullible to trust a hand that reachest out? Why am I such a coward? Why am I such a simpleton to want so much more for the world and be looked upon as so gar beneath others?
Why do I hate me so?
Dearest past...why won't you let me go?
-H. Murcia 5:17 PM 4/11/2021










