And you take a moment to sigh for what's lost. It tastes like pomegranates, or almost, anyway.
And then you proceed to write something terribly angsty and vague in a public forum because you feel that this is an emotion that ought to be shared somehow, and understood. Certainly empathized with. And you continue to write in the second person, fully aware that this is terribly angsty of you.
And then you giggle at your silliness, and sigh, and smile. Because somehow laughing at your own angst makes it just enough better that you can put it away in your Attic again.
