Most letters from a parent contain a parent’s own lost dreams disguised as good advice.
Sleep has become my centre point. The ambition I have. The event I await. The happiest I can ever be.
What I hate about happy people is that with their new found happiness there comes an arrogance. They forget about all the months and years of mistakes and misery, they forget all the times they were lonely and the times they did wrong. They seem to think that because they stumbled into their love and happiness by a mixture of accidental luck, they know better than the ones who are still left in the dark. They become the clichés of oh it will come with time since you know, good things come to those who wait. When it’s a lie, all of it, is a lie. It is nothing more than luck, a string of nearly missed coincidences. Do not preach to me because just because you have been here and left, doesn’t mean you get to forget.