Nausea

Self is the
triangulation
of experience.

Original Ending

What a thing,
   To tell the truth
      With your back
         Against the wall.

Unmoved

Things are strange, indeed.

I always thought life was supposed to be about ups and downs,
and the best one could reasonably hope for was a high average.

Lately, I'm living a straight line, or a dot, suspended in time.

A static node about which things revolve but do not touch. First mover, unmoved.

I miss you as I miss my childhood, true emotions.
First impressions, first chances, first loves.

I love you and I love nothing.