My head is currently a disastrous place to be.
Even though I feel so lucky. Today was such a propitious day: I should feel sorry for all the unborn personalities of whom will never witness all of its richness. The wind was so poetical, i’ve never thought of it as such before.
Alas, i’m still weighed down by all my thoughts. Yet, somehow, the more I think of what happened the less real it seems. Like the more I go over it in my head, the more it feels like nothing more than events played from my imagination. Soon, no doubt, I shall simply recall it as a dream. It felt like nothing else.
Tales from another broken home.