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i told him he was beastly and he hated me for it.


all along, though, it wasn't him. he was the same as ever--a boy overcome by how well he understood every single sensation happening around him all of the time--unable to handle his own life in the midst of everyone else's living.

the beast, it would seem, was me. aware of what it means to be The Way I Am, and desperate to shake it, lest i miss this phantom train, i pretended to be appalled and insulted. but here i am, the same monster who might've broken his heart one teenage night and left the pieces in the desert. when i think about it like that, the hate seems justified.

i like who i am, now, but it isn't become i've become more virtuous, or disciplined, or 'together'. it's only because i've learned to embrace my own beastly ways and stop striving for anything more legitimate.

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November 2013

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