• I don’t recall looking at the clouds often when I was younger. I remember such a leisurely activity as being portrayed as something that friends do together on perfectly bright green hillocks with nodding daisies; I had neither the companions nor the natural structure of grass mounts.

    I glanced occasionally when I was on the swings and went too far back, testing myself, scaring the pit of my being and pushing my comfort levels. I didn’t see much in the sky and often noticed more than anything how what was above, if you tried hard enough or just noted as I did, that the universe above Earth is dome-shaped.

    I don’t know that it’s still as such considering the mass amounts of pollutants that have happened since elementary school, but if ever I get the chance I shall look again.

    I also figured out that words that frequent my writings and typings, including obviously “don’t”, are negative. It was my observance when my father posted Biblical quotes and passages that alluded to his religious beliefs about my grandmother’s house.

    She’s dead now. But that’s okay. I watched her being half-gone for four years so when she finally passed from existence, physically, I didn’t mind much. I have random freak-outs when I cry hysterically and think morbid things of her and everything else. I don’t want to have her in my thoughts. It’s too disgusting. I barely have the memories from my youth to contrast that stroke, the f-----g old people place, and the rank smells and smiles of rotting teeth.