I wish I could sometimes. but things become complicated and hard and at some point you lose it. you lose the argument, you lose the idea, you forget what is real. you forget what you’re all about. you can’t even remember what is it that wanted in the first place, that’s how pathetic you become. and so that’s what happened. it would have been better if I knew when to leave and not come back, because it’s always the same. I can recognize these little things in my sleep and people don’t change.
joyce is not here didn’t make me as happy anymore.