Muddied thoughts

I’m a rather resilient man. I pursue nearly endlessly what I desire and what I believe I deserve. Only when I feel that I have exhausted possible means do I stop and go back to my room and relish silence. I sulk less now. Pouting has gone too unbecoming to somebody my age. The fact that I am using this blog to broadcast what I feel at the moment is cringe-inducing. Finding solace in the most-often anonymous interactions here is very juvenile. But the height of my asininity is this thinking that this muddied language is an expression. I have not communicated anything, except maybe that my thoughts are in a dirty puddle now.


5 thoughts on “Muddied thoughts”

  1. Sometimes vague outbursts of frustration to an anonymous crowd can be a little cathartic. And, if it helps in some way, there’s nothing wrong with taking advantage of the ability to do so.

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