This place is wishy washy.
I know.
Mood is a master of mutation.
I am resistant to the internal process of my self becoming fixed
I still remember epochs of rapid mutations
Firework-explosive with the maneuverability of water
These days…
It is more like weathering a storm
With brittle infrastructure
The problems too deep behind webs of rebar and wiring to access
Would it really be so bad if all of it fell?
What am I clinging to that these words come out and feel vaguely right?
I should let go.
It’s worked in the past
But I am at an averse angle with my past right now
So I am hesitant to trust Early Me