The 8

It is strange to me how time never takes a break. Here I am living my life, and everything else just wizzes by into nothingness. I can expirence something so increadibly wonderful, or perhaps something so terrible and yet it always just becomes non existant, to only be something that sticks into this odd thing called memory. It's comming to that time of year when the weather becomes dark and dreary but with those occasional optomistic loving days when it is bright and cheery. It is that time of year I remember what happened in the previous one.

Every morning I step outside and feel the cool wind blow on my face as the bright sunrise peaking over the mesa takes it's approach. It reminds me of loosing faith, and starting a new life. It reminds me of watching debri fly ahead and seeing it get stuck on fences, and thinking how beautiful it is to have been the only person in the entire world to have seen it. It reminds me of sitting there in a daze staring at the carpet, and listening to the sound of everyone chatter, and giggle, as I think to myself, "here we go again."