why is it that I can act fine, I can impersonate the happy...
and yet I can never feel it.
Is it that being content is being happy?
I felt it once.
I can remember it in an old memory.
I was the only one at the park, where most of my summer was and still is spent,
it was a fall day.
All the leaves had turned color, but not yet fallen.
I was about to go to a football game.
I had some time to spare.
So I joined the lonely swings.
It felt as if, one day I could breathe.
I had forgotten everything, and it was just the rapid squeaking of the old swing, and the wind at my ears.
My face, and ears getting bitten by the cold.
And my heart feeling warmth for the first time in a year and a half.
I jumped off that swing, when I could no longer get any higher.
Then I walked to the game.
Back to reality.
3 years ago.