• I am happy.
    Or, at least I believe I am.
    White picket fence dreams of you.
    Slowly soothing that familiar pain in my heart.
    The one caused by what I refuse to acknowledge.
    It hurts.
    It hurts to want something I cannot grasp.
    Almost.
    I can taste it on my tongue.
    Feel it in my throat.
    Rising.
    Burning.
    But then it's snatched away.
    As if I'm not worthy enough to experience it.
    And I never will be.
    Strange how it takes this feeling for inspiration to return.
    I never wanted this.
    For this ghost to fade back into the light.
    Not now.
    I never asked for this to harm you.
    But it's killing me.
    And you think I don't care?
    But it's murdering me and my mental state.
    I never expected this.
    Though everyone else seemed to.
    They want this.
    They don't know how this specter is from a distant memory.
    So distant.
    So long ago.
    Yet so vivid.
    I remember.
    Its growing brighter.
    And it pulls at my heart.
    Tugging persistently.
    Leading me towards the fork in the road.
    And beyond the horizon, everything changes.