What can I say? The way things are are the way things are. Perhaps it could be different; perhaps the way things are is only the tiniest glimpse of the way things could be. Would that we had the courage to try things a different way.
Do you ever wonder? What thoughts splatter the walls of your own mind? Are they similar to the ones which haunt mine? I'll never know, and for the most part, am content with that, but sometimes it would be nice to have just a little bit of insight. But it is so easy to speak of others and never of the things in our hearts; we dress our secrets in the most elaborate of guises, hoping that no one can decipher them, and yet, praying that they do. All the while we sit and gaze, impassive to the world, embarrassed by our mind's suggestions, knowing but hiding how much we wish they were a reality.
I have not the courage to speak of this, except in the secret places, where none shall hear me, where none shall know the truth. I have not the courage to pursue a different course, and should I lose you in the process, I shall bear that cross, with the full knowledge that it was I who sat on the emotions, quenching their battle for escape, suppressing the knowledge of their existence from you. Contrary to all advice, I will sit and wait, even though this might be the worst mistake I could ever make.
In the end, I will return here, to this place, this familiar place which has long known my presence, for every time I leave, I inevitably return. The scenery may change slightly between each visit, but the cycle never breaks; it's just one long carousel ride. For all its flashing lights and decadence, it's really all the same; there are only so many times you can go around.