I truly don’t believe that we humans have a strong understanding on the small things that hold our lives together, or how one small rip can tear apart the seams of happiness. We grow up in the firm grips of our parents who constantly clip our wings until we are ready to fly out into the big bad world on our own. Our imaginations are assembled by every vivid image we see. Our memories are forgotten with every year we age. But maybe, it’s good to forget the little things that destroyed the bliss moments of growing up. Maybe if the pieces of a good childhood are lost somewhere in the box, the rest of the puzzle can’t and won’t ever be complete. The marvellous photo of peaceful glee is nothing but a mess. How do we come to comprehend that life won’t brighten up to be more then lifeless frowns and flawless tears? How do we understand the useless saying of “everything happens for a reason” when that soul reason is dragging me to hell?
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