I can still remember when I didn’t feel this anguish.  When a day was just a day, boring or exciting, or maybe with some small or large upset.  Life was good because it was supposed to be good, things would work out, love and security was there all the time.  Is it even possible to feel that way again?  I’m through the looking glass, the world has changed, the air has changed colour.  The daily rhythm is a cycle of pain and struggle and acceptance, love is a traitor and hope is a stranger, and l breathe longing like I used to breathe air.

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