These days of isolation have exposed my critical flaws. I spent time reflecting, seeking to understand who I am—my state of being still undefined. I wish that I took the time earlier in life to define myself. If I hadn’t accepted lousy advice, then maybe my path would have led to utopia. I don’t know why I am here or where I belong. Every query returns a rejection. My mind negates the realm of happiness; I cannot fathom its true meaning.
Existence
Published by David W. Jones
David is a writer and blogger who enjoys creating literary expressions about everyday life. He is a published poet and currently doing reviews, creative writing, and storytelling. David's interests include narrating point-of-view scenarios, documenting non-fiction, and writing scripts for film and television. View all posts by David W. Jones
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Write Now and Later 