To an extent, it had gradually diminished.
Those ripples that had magnified in size over time, breaking thresholds and stretching the very fabric of his resolve. At times inconspicuous, he had always wondered if its absence meant that things had changed, that the fire no longer burned.. and that the shadow he casted finally conformed.
But there it was, the focal point being to flatline to a halt. To reach a state of equilibrium with an assiduity he had never reached nor attempted before.
It had always been borderline maddening to possess, like a broken cog impairing his capacity to rationalize, and liquidating his ability to reason. This primordial impairment had inspired deplorable sequences of events throughout the course of life, forcing him to live in the shadows, away from the routinary lives of other people and invalidating his subconscious demands to conform.
To be nondescript.
To be normal.
But he remains confined, living in self-deceit to validate his life and discard his deviation.
I am but a prisoner of my mind.
