Sometimes I can’t quite believe I’m here. I can’t fathom how everything turned out this way, and why I couldn’t make it all turn around. Sometimes the memories are so blurred I get frustrated trying to gather them, and sometimes they’re so vivid that the pain of harboring them becomes too much to bear. When I sit at D’Haven, even though I’m bored to tears of that place, I look around and feel heartily grateful that I’m here. When I wake up and wonder why I’m freezing myself to death by sleeping with the windows open and realize that it’s not fall I’m feeling, but just the air-conditioning, I look around and feel irrationally angry that I’m here.
I wonder when This feeling will go away.
I wonder when That feeling will come back.
I wonder if It has already gone and I’m still in denial.
I wonder if It had ever left to begin with, and I’m just not looking in the right place for It.