When UnAmerican became Sticker Nation

So thanks to the prince of dorks I gave yet another try, this time rewarded in my feverish state with all of the past coming tumbling back at me. I used to be more honest, more uncertain. All the questions I seemed to have asked then have been answered, replaced by yet another multitude of fill-in-the-blank and essays to create without knowing the topic.

I was recently told be someone I respect very dearly that if nothing else, I always need to hold on to my veracity. Is it just because it is easier this way, or do I find myself in this personality by the miniscule choices that I made along the way. Is there a difference? Path of least resistance was what was always touted, but did I even follow my own mantra?

The shower did not help. the last time I remember being that cold deep down in my bones was back in high school, after running half a mile down the beach to the only firm ceiling around. March, 1999, the furthest east I have been. The longest trip in uncertainty, soberness, and leadership in the past 15 years. I should be at work, running reports and watching over the world. I should be packing, getting ready for the abandonment of the first place of freedom I ever knew. Closets need turning out, laundry needs to be done. But I sit here dizzy and unaware of what time it is, nor the state of the universe.

The times have long been forgotten, the names I used to conceal the truth from others are now concealed to me. I cannot remember who the Butterfly or the Bruiser were, when speaking in riddles you forget the answer. Maybe that's the only thing I have learned all this time. Leave the riddles in the Labyrinth, and trust only the blatant ridicule in front of you.

"we are the mopey, and we are the unloved. we are the uncertain, and we are gods among men."--Nihil