Something Fake

a memoir for this strange day

What is this feeling i am getting today, i don't know.
Here's a faint glistening fault. Is it your birthday? Then why i feel like i did something bad again? Surely, this muzz in G#m is definitely not like others; the heart is not getting squeezed; yet here's a bit of suffocation. I hate it. It is like i was supposed to be somewhere. The onfall has deceiving decoration of womanliness. Is it someone missing me?
After months of silence, this day is mislaid on my life. If it wasn't for the sake of sorrows, a stray on my way of perceiving if i'm changed, i would surely go wild like the old days, with my old ways and old lads, in search of why for an instinct. I now know, i believe, what i don't want to, that what you feel like is happening may not be the truth; when i realized this, that day, in mild lonesomeness, the tears wet my cheekbones. Why should i care about even if it's wrong, that if something indeed is there? Like the strangeling familiar shape i always see when i'm high or the cool black and red void or the silhoutte i don't remember if existed, could this be the same after this many still months? I don't want this or i do, i don't know. But it's like i hurt someone again.

Author's Note

Struggling with my beliefs..8 June. A day to remember.