Spilled wine

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How many of my thoughts are just spilled wine? Promises of a future that became stains. They will always be there for me to remember who I was and the life I aspired. They come from a time where I used to think how much I had already accomplished. My young mind was impossible to break down, happiness was always present due to the promise of time. I looked to days to come like constellations high above in the night sky. What is there to find out? How long would it take me to get there? How small was I compared to them, how big can I grow? Continue reading “Spilled wine”