crossing the line

changes are not easy,

they never are,

they require deep self-reflection,

honest evaluations,

things which I have never

been good at,

once I used to write for popularity,

thinking that it was a ticket out,

a way to escape from this prison

where I live,

but now I write for me,

now I write for survival,

trying to manage life mixed in

among the dead,

fantasy with the real;

there is a fine line,

between fantasy and reality,

between genius and insanity,

it is not always easy to tell

which side of the line,

something or someone is on,

boundaries are defined,

limits are set, and these become the world

in which we live,

every now and then,

someone comes along,

refusing to be confined

by a world of limits and boundaries,

going beyond the lines drawn,

if they succeed,

they are a genius,

if they fail,

then they are a fool;

her and I cross the line all the time,

we both know it,

neither of us speaks about it,

because if we did,

then we might have to admit,

there are changes that need to be made,

lines which need to be redrawn,

and that is not easy;

but then it never is.

.

.