Wait, So You Mean You Don’t Drink Any Alcohol, Ever?
I’ve become a keen observer of my sadness. This distinct feeling of melancholy is old. With familiar stories involving my various errors and defects. But I’m no longer inside of this, consumed. I am watching, almost as if from above, seeing the pattern. Knowing that it passes. It’s all ancient. Different stories with the same root experience. Explanations I came up with when I was young, not yet…