Time

It's 3:35am. I'm awake but it feels like I am not alive. My brain is constantly stuck in a part of my former life. I believe it's because I have difficulties moving on. I remember, as a child I had a particular hard time letting toys go. Throwing them away, I remember giving them a kiss before I threw them in the garbage, a final goodbye to inanimate objects. I think it's because I felt more in tune with them, than I did my family, or my friends. My time, my days of a past life. I remember, those two words, they hold such tremors that could topple the roman Colosseum. It is because I remember the things of my childhood that shape who I am, who I will be. Is that not what we all share? Sharing of the nostalgia, the memories that aren't as great as you remember. I sometimes fear that in the future, I will change into someone I don't ever want to be. Someone who's will is so dead, and brain so lifeless that a corpse would breathe more life than that of myself. Surely, I say to myself I control my destiny, the way I see, the way I choose to speak. Yet I see too much of the opposite in other's lives. If everyone is a tortured soul, is there really a such thing as a normal one? Time, a love and a curse, whatever will we make of thee?