it

such a fool I was

such a foolishy foolish fool

I often wonder just how many minutes I have not spent as a fool

Or The Fool

A fool such as I

Even now, as I imagine someone reading these words, I feel particularly foolish

And it’s not anything I can explain

It’s not anything I even feel like explaining

It just is

That’s how it just is

It’s not as if I can’t help it. Whatever ‘it’ is. I’ve never been particularly helpful to ‘it’

It doesn’t think it matters. But I tell it it matters. It matters a lot. To me it matters a great deal. I try to tell it to it al. of the time. But it seems like it never listens.

It has grown tiresome to me.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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