living in the past

Writing about living in the past is such an irony. Just the thought of this thought is an icy joke. If I weren’t living in the past I wouldn’t be writing about living in the past, and perhaps more importantly I wouldn’t be wasting more time dwelling about the past right here right now.

But here I am again, melancholic and irritatingly dull and boring and down and out.

Oh no, actually I’m not. I shall not live in the past. I will not.
So give me a big smile and grit your teeth girl. Mistakes are the past.

But nothing else need be.

Advertisement