I never think much about the old days or the crazy ones that either degrade me as a person or that link me to an old stigma which says that since I was “this,” then I will never be anything but “that.”
I don’t like to think this way
(anymore).
I never think much about the dark places or the underground hideouts, or the broken-down buildings, condemned and lightless, but yet, the life of the people within them was darker than the worst of midnight and the souls who sunk down along the floors or nodded off in stages of synthetic bliss were equally as damned and as condemned as the buildings where they would hide.