Erase, remove, scrap. I feel like throwing away everything and starting all over again. It was wrong, all wrong, in spite of my stupid attempts of convincing myself nothing can ever go wrong. But I lack the courage of pulling out the roots, and make it fresh. I had my chance and it lingers inside of me like the memory of a dead body.I will never fly. I was damaged, right from the beginning.
Don’t worry, music heals. I’ll dream of a Greek party where people trash plates and laugh and dance. It will be just another wish that I’ll deny myself.