When August Comes: Chapter 1

I walk unhurriedly down the far-reaching street, and pretend I'm not bothered by the memories. I walk down this street, because I cannot escape this street. The charcoal-silvery pavement is stretched further than I could see. It's the street that we didn't know we both lived on, all those times we tried to hang out. It's the street that made me feel meaningless to this heavenly body we call Earth, that's really nothing more than a rubbish pile full of faultfinding, egocentric mortal souls. He can't escape this street because he spends all his days on his turf on this avenue. I can't escape this street because I spend every other weekend on my turf here on this avenue. He's stuck with knowing he warped me, and I'm stuck with these resentful memories. I walk to the places in which remind me of where I got damaged, because it lets me know I'm feeling this dreadful feeling for a reason, and I'm not broken with no explanation.

That's the problem with my mind, I feel the most extreme feelings, but without searching for the reason why, I just don't know the reason. So visiting the places that made me feel disfigured brings me to the unvarnished truth, so I'm not feeling without knowing. So I'm not feeling torn up, dead, and misled. At least it allows me to come to my senses.

So visiting the places of abuse and damage is what I do.