A summer has passed since that tragic day in autumn. Seasons rolled by, as they should. Life continues, as it always does. And here I am at the start of a new summer and all I can think about is how that summer ended. Liquid courage in my right hand suggests that I should be high on life. How ironic that one got cut short...
The letters on my arm, often flat and smooth, are raised and alert. Of course in my foolishness, thinks that it's some sort of metaphysical sign that a presence is near. With disillusion gone, logic sets back in saying that the alcohol is making your heart work harder. Memories are all I got now, memories are all I need now, and memories will rescue this summer and every other season. Because for every bad 24 there is always another fresh 24 waiting to happen. With that, I bid farewell to my melancholy, and greet my summer with open arms and warm hearts.
Another Good Day...
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