when you can’t even talk to the people you breathe the same air as.

It’s been weeks since I felt a real feeling. Since I breathed in the air and smelled its sheer sweetness. Why is that? Why do we fall out of love with life? Why aren’t we always captivated by the way a baby can clap, or by the feeling of the sun on bare backs?

Why do we forget? We forget the ones we love, the ones who love us, the One who Loved us.

What’s even more saddening is that we sometimes pretend that we don’t care. We wake up and pretend, tearing down the shelters we worked so hard to build for ourselves. We (I) tell ourselves (myself) that we’re (I’m) happy.

I’m not happy. Not anymore.