Many people

I can miss many people.

I miss my demon.
Especially when I am too happy being distracted by small comforts that continue to paralyze me. No one but my demon can pull me back to harsh reality.

I miss my enemy. The chaos.
When all is content and a boring set of the same tune. Since I cant fight myself. I need someone to warn me of my danger. To make me move.

I miss sadness. And anger.
Because soft spoken honest words arent enough to tell you what its like to feel this intense, inside.

And yes I do miss you. You and hatred. I miss how you convinced me to be insane and fearless and full of volume.

Even if it meant I could never be me again.

Honesty.

I want honesty.
But I dont know what is the right thing to do with it. Because everything you say makes me do something.

Like when you once said to me you dont read poetry or abstract artistic writing.

You were not trying to hurt me. You were being honest. I know that. I believed it with all my heart. The intent was pure.

I was not.

I just couldnt help feeling trapped by my own nature. By my own self being.

I want to be like ground and machinery. All solid and quiet. And content with what is. But its hard to make the sky fall. To keep a bird still. To close the lid on these feelings.

To stop writing. Like this. Again.