Recessive Self/Economy/World

Will it return this time?
All the things lost to me, swept to sea..
Never shall I hold them again?
Enter to my mind and find I am antiquated, so flows forth my life.

My family- well, my Dad, who, God bless him and forgive him, dictates all our traditions and does so in the thought that he is creating for me, brother, and mother a normal, kind life- has a habit we follow on weekends. Before I was granted permission to freely stay at home when I felt inclined to do so, I would accompany them and thus pass my weekends in action but sad and empty (but less so than I do as of late). Anyhow. On Saturday, we head north to a local fleamarket and then to a park that is a bit south of said fleamarket but still north of our house (a park I happen to love and adore.. See picture above and to right..). Between that, we stop somewhere to get snacks for me and whoever accompanies me (if anyone).

*This post will get more interesting; hold on..*

On Sunday, my grandmother brings me to church, my mom picks me up, we head back to my house, and then we'd set off to a city south of us where another fleamarket is situated. After perusing through there, we head to either a park near to that- a park overlooking Tampa Bay (said park greatly depresses me... Just thinking of it opens a pit in my heart {to put it in a child-like, cliched manner})- or a park a bit further away that has next to it a recycling facility. Initially, this was the end of the road for our Sunday expenditures, but after my dad's discovery of The Health Food Store, we go there on nearly every Sunday.

Here's where I get into the emotional stuff that I, for once, don't even want to mention. I've been conditioned...

No. I don't want to write of it now. Maybe if I could tell someone else beforehand. Yes.