I find success hard to obtain and easy to obsess over. Laughing at the thought of drowning in depression or lamenting over failed attempts at greatness. I don’t really care if I fail anymore. I don’t care if everyone looks at me and points their fingers through the shadows as I wallow through the alleyway. I spent so much time caring if others cared that it exhausted me to no end.
I didn’t see a light I heard the spark. It was a match and a shadow. The figure dropped the flaming object and ablaze went the carcass on the Alleyway floor. I laughed and cried as I danced with the shadowed figure. Had I no ties to that burning version of me on the ground anymore? I don’t really know I like to think more complex than letting the old me go.