Found an old journal
and flipped through the pages
reading writing that was
mine at one time, but
i didn’t recognize him.
He was slimmer,
smarter maybe
and hopeful. Optimistic
about the future and
still with a capacity for joy.
i couldn’t root for him
because i knew the next chapter
so i put the journal in a box
and told myself
i would come back later
to mine it
for fresh ideas.
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