I feel like a clump of dirt broken into formless debris during a geoponic preparation.
I wish I could execute atavism in my mind, transforming depressed thoughts to the happiness known only during the earliest years.
I am only proficient at failing. At falling. At choosing wrong paths. Even walkways that seem purposeful and intended eventually present themselves as merely mirages.
I am always searching for a memento vivere and I have come a across a few, but they die when I get too close, so perhaps there is no reason to look for one anymore. Hence, a break as I break.