The Past

Pale and anemic
Always and only me to blame
Shaken and frail,
Silly and insane.
Ever time will fly, and oh, I do so miss... The
Days I made my bed in which today I lay!

Fall makes me nostalgic. Really, really, really nostalgic, to the point where all passion for the new is stolen from me and I walk in weak surrender to memories of past years. I remember the days Sarah's mom was alive, the days spent in premature and sickening company with the many guys I've dated, the days before everyone became callous (there was a time when I was the only one among my friends to be so), the days I found magic in my removal from the oven of Florida's summer to the coolness of the cellar, so to speak, the times spent with my two best friends when we were so very much younger, a night at Hallowscream, the friendships and relationships I'd cultivate but then neglect that would dissipate so hastily.

Why, why did I wait for a time when things would get better as they were good so that I could look back when things are okay and miss only those times that could have been fantastic? Why am I doing the same thing again? Shall I perpetually be stuck in the past? Is it really as much of a tragedy- to me- as all make it to seem?