Base of This Beast

I should not be writing this but let me tell you, gentle reader, that the winter requires chapsticks.

Its a must for all.

For grave reasons.

On other news, friends are friends. They just don't stop being friends because they go away. They just go distant, but somehow you realize that a friend is a friend is a friend. He/She/It (because I consider the Moon to be amongst my closest buddies) is someone whom you carry inside you. They can be the Star, they can be the Sun, they can be the Lily, they can be the World, they can even be the Empress of your soul, call them what you like.... but you loved them in a moment and you carry that moment around with you for the rest of your existence, and you live your life over those little moments that gather dust on the shelves until you give them a tiny dusting, and they are refreshed.

Sometimes you feel the obvious temptation to leave it all away and start over again, but for these moments you just fail to, because they are what you let yourself be... what you make yourself of.

These moments bring to mind the incredible number of lost scenes that you could have, should have, would have remembered, but you don't bother because its not worth the space inside your mind. Your mind is a vast stretch of forgetfulness, and you mourn your age because you fail to remember certain things about yourself.

And all that matters at the end of one day is that you move on from this moment to that, and blow a ring of smoke to the world, with wishes for fulfillment.

Andro. I wish you luck sweetheart. I won't miss you much, because part of me is there with you and part of you is here in me, and I'll look back and smile on this one day.