Mm.

I think of all those times. All those times I'll never get back.
It's funny how my writing has evolved from dreams and stories into this ventilation system for sorrow and it's thoughts.

I wish I could go back to those times.

Something is not right. It never feels right. I feel like I am in the wrong place. In the wrong time.

The people who I would talk to 2 years ago constantly and everyday, those I would share my deepest and darkest thoughts with, those random moments in where they would share the laughter with me and always know how I feel.... Now I don't even see them or talk to them.


But believe me. I do try to engage in the conversation. Quite frankly, it's usually always me trying to get that back and starting the well shortened chit chat that would only last a breath long. Their breath long.


No reply. No response. No encounter.

It's like I've been stuck in time while the rest of the world grows. They grow older and older until they turn to dust and are no more.

I'm only a child. As I'd like to believe. So innocent. So unknowing of what is going on. The things I've done right or wrong. The things I've done in general.

But then again I know of many. And keep that hidden away from the world. Supposedly in wisdom. Or is it fear?

Nah I'm sure it's not of fear. I mean, it was as it is isn't it?

Another attempt of conversation again to be only shut down.

And I know well enough of how good these things turn out.

Try again tomorrow then.