As days roll by, it has become saddening to think that you can’t really hold onto things, to people; those who cradled you and held you as a child, your role models for the true, the good and the beautiful; those that played both major and minor parts in defining your happiness, shaping your memories as an individual—all of them slowly receding to oblivion; preoccupied with their own individual sorrows.
Standing there, i thought, i was happy here, once. I was carefree and laughed in a way that real laughter should sound. I was a child here, once. Filled with joy and surrounded with love.
Now things are in shambles, rickety, and beyond repair. I don’t know what else to think. I don’t know what else to feel. This intensity is now making it apparent that i haven’t downed enough gsm blue this afternoon for me to feel the requisite numbness enough to compel me to lose touch with reality. Happy birthday to me.