Toxicity, ramblings revisited

Slash Circle

Running uphill, glooming into the abyss, momentary bliss and [insert cliche here]. Old habits are hard to break.

Because who needs boredom, new ideas and short for-the-hell-of-it experiments when there are so many distractions to pay attention to. All for the sweet prosperous addictions spanning an entire pink-ish spectrum of caffeinated fizzy goo, potent brownsticks and borderline titillating explicit content. Keeps you running, forever. I can sleep when I’m dead.

Ye olde windy, wet and rainy drizzle. A stimulus transacting the old conditioning of many solitary hours outdoors, with bright thoughts of the future, followed by the recognizable black bile oozing once again. Unconvinced if any small successes during the day, week or week before that had substance. New thoughts to ponder.

What once gave strength and endurance, albeit temporary, slowly start making its sneaky reentrance. A point-five-second reconsideration jumps it’s stock all the way past startup, post and production. All this time, the throttle varied, while it was all choke. A past -lean- state of mind starts to dwindle, seduced by an -rich- ecstatic optimism for future endeavors. Please don’t stall, please don’t stall.

Wheels, circles, cycles. Old habits are hard to break

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