I miss my life so much from when I was happy that I’m forgetting to live it now.
My life is no longer a series of beautiful moments as much as it’s a series of days passing quickly and slowly and insignificantly.
My life was romance.
My companion’s love for me was as unconditional as mine was for him and had no bounds.
My job was a joy and not a task or obligation.
I was young and perfect and had my life in front of me.
My future was marvelously uncertain and all my decisions were yet to be made.
But what is more a travesty than the loss of that beautiful life is the ever more real sensation that I’m losing the one I’m living now.
I’ve been swept onto a train and I loved it so much that I didn’t even notice how fast it was moving until I was thrown from it and my whole world shifted in the fall and there’s no more trains.
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