Reason #10 for Hiking the Pacific Crest Trail.

My mind is made up.

Things are much easier, now

that my mind is made up.

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Not so fiction.

Not

every

person

is meant

to

stay

in your life

forever,

but

that doesn’t mean

you can’t tell

their

story,

it doesn’t mean

they’re

not

a part of yours,

so be a dear

and change a name or two,

just don’t

spoil

the end —

they’ll know if you do.

Conversations with myself.

I try to hang loose

but always end up

twisted, like a

damp dish towel.

Stained and tattered.

Are we really back here again?

Rinse and repeat.

Haven’t you learned anything yet?

Rinse and repeat.

I bet you like it this way, don’t you?

It’s quieter here…shh!

With voices in your head?  You’re too easy.

It’s alright if you sweat, just

don’t let them see you turn.

Are we really back here again?

Metaphorically speaking,

we never actually left.

Places just become new places.

People get replaced by other people.

Lies become fiction.

Truth becomes fantasy.

Like a damp dish towel,

twisting facts

until

they hang loose.

War and Politics.

“You’re a liar.”

“No, you’re a liar.”

“I know you are but what am I?”

“Real mature, Dick!”

“Can’t we just play War already…”

“Wow!  You really are a Dick.”

“What?”

“We almost had them fooled, jerk.”

“I know you are but what am I.”