I miss writing poetry.
There's a point in your life when you just can't stand anything. Nothing's worth living.
I got passed that point and know I'm getting sick and tired of the small things. Flaws and Stupidities that bug us throughout life but that are so infantile, so...unnecessary that you, eventually, realizea they are not worthy of your concern. I guess that's when you finally reach adulthood or when you get a glimpse of you really are, and of who you want to be. Now I know what I am, I know my identity: These "little things", "little secrets", "little ways of behaving", "little preconceived attitudes", "little close-minds" are nothing but stones in my shoes. I can, and I am, taking one out at a time, but some we can't avoid: other people depend on them. And if we care for those people, you have to keep on walking wearing unconfortable shoes. It's a pity when others don't understand your identity or can't live up to it. It's a shame when you know other's identities but they don't know their own.
I am myself today and hopefully will keep on being.
Goodnight.