lost years. 00.49

Hi. I haven't been back here since what, 2017? And by 'back', I mean reaaaaaally back, not just here to post some shitty, sometimes totally unnecessary updates about my non-existent love life. By which some of the posts basically were just copied from my other blog I created out of the trope I've been holding dear in my 25-years-long life, yes you read that right I am now 25 whatthefuckingfuck, but anyway yeah the I-romanticize-the-hell-outta-everything trope you all know so well. 

Mooooving on.

But that's the thing, though. Moving on. To move on. To move forward. Why do we only bring it up after we're faced with some fundamental and almost always but not every time, heartbreaking events--which even some might say, turning points in our life? I don't know, I'm not really in the right state to write anything longer than some paragraphs right now, but here's what I'll say for the moment:

Moving on is constant. It's always happening. We're always on the move, aren't we?

...am I?

We dreamt our pencil wrote backwards

We could look forward

To finding our lost year

I am scared. Utterly terrified. Don't give up. Don't give up. Don't give up.