Those times of innocence. How far I've come, whether for good or for worse.
I miss night cycling with my close buddies as we'd stop by places of fond memories, singing our personal theme song and reminiscing on lost opportunities knowing that, in the very least, three sticks that fall upon each other support one another like a tripod.
And then there were those Mahjong nights and walks after that, feeling the breeze and just enjoying the company of one another.
Two separate events, two different situations, the very same emotion.
We never needed to be perfect.
All that matters are the memories.
But... how, why?
And no one else needs to know, because this is as personal as it gets.
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