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I look at these photos now and I see a sadness in them. Have they always been this way? Have they always had a feeling of melancholy to them?


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I try to look back and remember that weekend, but my memories … They are a blur now. How quickly these memories are fading! How hard I hold on to them while they quickly slip away from me, like fine sand or water seeping through my cupped hands.

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I feel the void in the banalities of everyday. It’s in the messages that I know will never come, or the ones that I compose but never gets sent out.


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I dislike endings. I feel like I’ve had more than enough endings to last me a lifetime.

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