i had a wonderful time so thank you for giving me so many years and so much happiness that i did not deserve. there once was a boy that many said held wind in his hands, and as quickly as it would blow, it would fade again, much like he. and the days would pass, but he would not allow himself to be forgotten as easily as the wind. he would not dream of something that simple. he craved complexity and discovering a part of himself that was only for himself. not like the wind, where each gust could be replicated. but like wind, forget, forget. like pieces of tattered paper, did he, and was filled with such horror that he retreated.