戦いを止める

mine was the screams of injustice, not for myself, never for myself. mine were the echoes in the dark, the reminder that i was once alone, reminders that i once was never alone. mine were the corrupt movements of one who does not understand, mine were the desperate attempts at understanding, mine were the failings of ignorance and the struggle to hold to a faded piece of humanity.

action defines us

but where do we place what we feel?

i am bad at action. when i feel something important, when i understand something, i don't know how to prove it. i don't know how to show it, act it out. i just feel it.

maybe that's why i've always written it down, it seems like an action, like proof.