The Original Wanderer
How is it that happiness can be forgotten so readily? I've held it in my heart at present, and yet given a moment alone it's quickly torn to shreds with bitter and analytical claws. I suppose my destiny reads a miserable road. Of loneliness and the inability to accept this defeat. I am a hapless soul. Face it yo.
Hate is quicker to the gate.
Hate is quicker to the gate.