info i don't need
I find portfolios of friends and people I’ve known through a quick Google search, keywords being education they have completed, towns in which they have grown. It’s on a whim, as I go. There are differences that go without being said, but I’d just like to say at least one of ‘em out loud: it’s fun, friends being people I still know. And so that goes. Secrets aren’t so much of a burden once they’re out, are they?
I don’t have one of my own, meanwhile. Things I’ve created are buried in Google Docs, on napkins I wrote at church to cope, the hippocampus, […] all saved though for naught because really, what do I know? I only know of. The disconnect is in tune with waking up and getting through the day, this on repeat. Such is the way I’ve put off building it in favor of getting better. Not synonymous to luck, karma, or lack thereof, however. Those exist. Just not here. Some thing for something else, huh?
Have I really won? I admire some spaces and exist in others and for what?
There still isn’t just one way.