So trouble existing as a colorless, odorless, senseless act of stupidity. I repeat. I decide to not change. How can I feel safe when its warmth allows peaceful slumber. Almost coma-like. Almost dead. So what are these not lessons learned? Miserable, yes but it is misery that I seek. Happiness no. So as expected, I retort to bottling it up. Holding my feelings in while my enemies extort my peace. My life sinks choking in the wells of guilt and shame. How long will I have to endure this feeling? When can I just go home? I was born from a warm dark moan, taught by the light of love.