Algorithm.

 Hello, 

It's been 8 years. 

There's comfort in past haunts, maybe it's because you don't need to be sure of who you are when you're someone you know you used to be in. 

Recent years have been good, and not so. 

Mostly good I must admit. 

Which makes the bits where things feel bad, seem so... trivial. 

I've been struggling with posting/sharing things on IG stories, because the voices outside have over taken the one inside. What used to be the freedom of impernance has somehow for whatever reason, become a question of algorithm. 

I never could care much for that. 

Not because I didn't, but because I simply couldn't. 

I enjoyed sharing moments, I felt safe knowing that though fleeting... the act of doing so would perhaps... perhaps help me in remembering what my leaky brain can't. 

Forgetfulness becomes a thing as you grow older.

And subconsciously perhaps, I've found a way to remember better. 

But it is not always welcomed. 

And these days more and more, I feel as though I'm wrong... in this way of remembering. What works for me, is done... at the expense of someone else's comfort perhaps. 

I can no longer tell if one if joking, or not. And it's as though my mental walls are down, and I am unable to master a skin thick enough to just power through the negativity. And I have chosen... to stop. 

Which brings me back here. 

8 years later. 

Writing riddles.