Wishing I was five again, and unaware of myself.
Today is different, devoid of familiarity I write in cursive. Empty and grim seems to be the day's theme. The halls and classes are filled with students soft spoken, and reserved as if a great tragedy occurred. Stead passing time is countered with a longing to be elsewhere, without a desire to leave. If only I could return to being a child I think, but knowing I can't, I begin to formulate other possibilities to resolve issues, and problems. Working towards enlightenment produces many solutions to many problems, and running away only entices more things to chase. I hope one day someone will say, "And I know this from the workings of Mikaj."