Now

I’m so hungry or nostalgic. maybe both; this incessant craving of what’s past, the hole in my stomach that I cannot fill gnawing at me as if the only suitable nourishment is my skin, my veins, my weighted memories of neglect and brokenness. I miss things I should not miss. I miss the empty longing for people who will not listen, but I do not miss you. I miss dancing alone in my room and crying in the dark, but I do not miss myself. There is no greater satisfaction for me than knowing that I have overcome the evils presented to me at childhood and that I have already become infinitely more colossal than anyone ever believed I was destined to be. So do not try to beat me down because I am already much higher than I ever even thought possible and I can see the world for what it is and I am never coming down.