Grim.

I was hit by a sadness unbeknownst to me today. It's one thing to be sad. It's another to not know why, and to be driven into melancholy by a tepid form of procrastination.

Maybe it's the brown leaves finally falling off and opening into a cold and bitter winter. But it can't be, I've been looking forward to this since July.
Maybe it's my friends. But it can't be, I'm far from alone.

I don't know what it is that I can't admit to myself, but I'd rather not consider it. It looks a lot darker that the sadness I bathe in now.

Right now things are good.
But it was just better before.

I really don't think I can take all this bullshit until december.
Perhaps I should be happy with many things I can't remember.
As the embers fade, I realise going back is the only thing I wish to do.
This utopian ideology of a perfect destiny is starting to rot.
All I really know is that the past was not so dim.
The future is unimportant and alterable.
Memories are not.
Nostalgia is grim.