I live for brown eyes

We never had a patio. Or a widescreen TV. Or a swimming pool. Or a dog. No, wait, I got my dog in the end. Had to give her up in the end, but got her in the end. The end. So many endings. That’s sad. No matter how many self-help and positive thinking books tell you it isn’t and that life is about transience and moving on, I beg to differ. Life’s about the past. Comparison. Memory. Everything Now is based on everything Then. And it is fucking healthy. Because it feels right. If it feels right, it’s healthy. It’s… right.


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