drink this cup of venom.

i miss writing.
i miss leisure books.
i miss 8 years ago.
i miss perfection.
i miss childhood oblivion.
i miss some other peculiar things.

[edit]
it's amazing how we build ourselves for that underlying moment only to find ourselves crushed by the inconceivable outcome. we receive that blow to our minds, as if a barbarian just swung his handy pike to our heads. we lose the battle. must we drag our completely battered bodies forward to safer grounds? is it worth the effort?

must we be given life in a household of struggles? must we be destined to hit brick-walled obstacles in full impact .. and to look up teary-eyed and watchfully at others who live in armoured castles? must we replenish ourselves but to only find our futures stunted?

must we drink this cup of venom?
[/edit]

summer is upon us. i am constantly reminded by the humidity and our confident sun. what joy. :) or not?