Blade and Moonlight

it takes effort now for me to remember. you won’t take me back, huh? i see . . . who can blame you if, in a day, he returns to my thoughts more often than one from an avoided past should. i loved him. i love him. perhaps in these words one might instead gather lessons of grammar and vocabulary, and ignore the drama. drama is evil. kill drama. my day, today. i can’t blame myself for traces of paranoia in my blood. for anyways, since i first had my consciousness, the world celebrates simultaneously with my coming. hurrah! my consolation. i’ve always thought myself to be most dumb when i’m sober. no, i won’t start my next statement with an "on the contrary . . . " i take pride in the fact that intoxication only alters my state of heart, never of my mind. my fumes only make me do my differentiations and integrals slower; not that all of a sudden numbers change their values. it is a fantasy to me. that i lose my logic. my freedom lies there, you see. but my emotions . . . yes, they tell me they can never be a cure for my depression. i never said i was sick. i only wish to procrastinate the tears. later, please, later, thus my flights. i know sadness will again find me, but perhaps i can face it later, when i have the right weapons, or if not, some more seasonings apart from only salt in the waters from my eyes. i am sad, i am sad. let it go.