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I turn within myself and look back into my past; into nonentity. The best time in life was hardly present. I wish I could go back and tell that innocent little girl to be stronger, to be valiant; but I can’t. She had her chance, and she lost it. I smolder, I yell, I despair on these thoughts of the past. I realize that I had barely lived, just existed. It’s too late at this moment and my thoughts feed on this misery. The grief creates tears that burn my skin, unable to ease the pain. I hover in hopelessness, for the time is gone, and what remains of that girl is a woman now, or a skeleton maybe. The end. A beginning for everything flows and we live to transform; we live to learn. The future’s still open and to be lived like the past has been wasted.

And with hope in my heart I look forward…

There are things destined to be said like streaks of black smeared across one’s cheek. I swim like a fish who’s forgotten everything. My dreams take me to waterfalls and jungles where all the snakes are dead. Maybe it’s my moment to be that unusual ray of light that people can’t deny seeing, to lurk in cracks of wooden floorboards, to twist my body in angular positions to let the flowers inside grow. Maybe it’s time to liberate myself of the melancholia and bleakness that has enclosed my existence, and laugh, self-afflicting hysterical laughter. And somewhere, rising from this dementia, hope, optimism, happiness… the delusion of a secure happy tomorrow.

people cry for their lost childhood in the dark.
tonight, we drink to youth.