A still of human life

We wandered everywhere and learned everything but still the sun looked down at us angrily as if we didn't understand. Its blinding light gave us inspiration to try, but a taboo stood in the way and attempted to make us give up. We never have, and we never will.

Moods are frenzied that way. It's always a sad affair when I realise the familiarity of this situation. Don't you know this has happened before?

I don't know which is more depressing: the feeling of not knowing what it is I want to cry about, or knowing that the tears won't come anyway. You should never have to wish for that; the ability to cry. They should just come.

Is "good pain" pain? Or is it pleasure that's tainted by past memories? When those unusual waves bring the tide in, I can't tell.

"Don't worry about it." And no one knows I do anyway.

And the good times will come back soon, simply because I can either be depressed, work like a madman and eventually I'll get over it.

Work and at the same time, chat to people with the risk of spilling, thus keeping it fresh in my mind and letting it thrive in my head forever.

And because that's how I work. I'd rather be in a state of depression at the moment, and keep it to myself. This is as far as it goes.

When the downtime hits you, it should at least tell you why. It should say

You are feeling like this because ___________________.

But more melancholy emotions aren't very well known for being polite. And everything just comes out because I have nothing better to talk about. And then I regret everything I put down.

Maybe it's because you're missed.

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