The Twelfth Month

This thing will rot your brain. Seriously. It’s a museum piece, an antique.

Just looking at it tells you what an idealistic person I was three years ago. I thought I was pretty awesome, and that I could handle anything with ease.

Of course, it all came to nothing. It always does.

I’m not changing the blurb. At least it proves I once “wanted” to be artsy.

September has always been full of bad luck. December has always made a deep impression on me. I remember which day it was, what happened, and what was said. Looking back, it feels like yesterday, so vivid and clear.

I still remember the days, but the years keep slipping by and fading away.

It’s as if every year has a December 5th to look back on, but that year had only 366 days.

My memories of time are fading at an alarming rate. “Forgetting” is a long, complicated process, as relentless and unyielding as the endless cycle of life.