i don't know what i'm doing here
three years from the last time
looking over this webbing of memories

nostalgia truly is rose covered glass

my stream of consciousness is a trickle

no no

not even a trickle

and my tabula rasa is freshly scrubbed

no way to describe these (lack of) emotions

fundamentally something has changed in my mind

perhaps maturity and moving away from my

'formative years'

but these dark thoughts do not plague me -- existential

i guess i've seen enough that the thoughts are no longer

abstract

my fears, depression and anxiety now is a vivid reality

embedding solidly in reality

my artistry and wordplay has been dulled by academia

creativity crushed by the demands of tweed jackets

three years

i suppose thoughts age well

maybe because they're no longer freshly seeped

maybe my choice of entertainment and consumption has deteriorated

sedated me into a lull of mindlessness and unable to fathom deeper thought

maybe i was truly brilliant and looking back now, with awe, i realize

i'm a shadow of my former self

was that state of mind worth the brilliance coming from it?

perhaps, perhaps not. that is a dangerous line of thought

am i happier?

am i the same?

why does my keyboard want to double space?

will this be seen as brilliant as my former work?