What I thought of myself after “she” left.
I’m a mix between an embittered film noir gumshoe and a cranky old man that shoots at cats. I’ve been left somewhat direction-less at the age of 23, the only real bearing I have left is that I’m looking to share my life like it’s a secret, the kind that makes people inseperable.
That’s from an antiquated website bio I recently came across.
It’s kinda sad to look back at the person I was 4 years ago, to know how hellish my existence was to me then. While this may not make much sense, I’m happy for me. I’m happy that, while given to brief periods of self-loathing, I’m a happier person now. I think a large part of my reprieve was granted by finding a sense of purpose outside the “4 corners” of myself. Direction means a lot when you don’t have any.
