Past and Present Flashbacks
Writing this with my eyes closed, wanting to keep trapped the thoughts that might slip through the cracks when I look away, out in space. Nothing is kind anymore. Not the sound of night, not the air I breathe, not the light I see hurting my eyes like a splash from the salty sea.
In my flashbacks, I see the good intentions that failed to be anything but good by those protecting my youth. I would’ve changed some things if only I could. What bothered me then, bothers me no more now. Not more than it should.
Painting happy endings. Frustrated that the paint smudges before anything ever gets dry. And I know I shouldn’t quit trying. Out of a million wishes, a million trials, a million tricks, one shot is what this is all about; one shot is all I need.
