There's a thing to be said about anonymity these days. It's nice to write things that people may read but not if they know my face, my voice, my name. I wonder about that.
It's like screaming in a world of screamers just to get something out. Feel alive for a bit. It takes too long to think nowadays.
I want the old me back. It feels like a faded piece of paper. The marks are creased and worn. There's no face anymore. Nothing there.
Replacement. Detachment.
Masks. Lies. Deception.
I don't like the world I might be stepping into.
I think I'll go back.
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