Waiting for you to give me your affection is like watching paper burn;

Toxic, hard to breath, and in the end I'm left with nothing but ash.

I stand next to you.

You place your hand on my inner thigh and wait for me to move it.

I don’t want to.

Your touch melting me, I sit in a pool of my own sentiments.

Happy wasn't that long ago.

When did it leave? I have no

idea why I've been sitting here dissociating for hours while you danced, around me,

to the beautiful music that was playing.

I watched your hips and the movement of your body like we we're the only two, ever.

I need to find happy.

I need to go out and grab life by it's big metaphorical mammoth tusks

and lead it in the right direction.

My right direction.

I need to grab a map and look for whatever it is that makes me happy.

I don't know why.

Why is “happy” such an important aspect of our young lives?

Why do we crave to be so satisfied?

Selfish. We are selfish

for wanting

something that not even the Masters had,

Happiness.