and nothing happened

i think june is bleeding away like every month before her. what's beauty to a metaphor? 

we find comfort in change. spring summer autumn winter, over and over and over. this Christmas things will be different, you think but you just want everything to stay the same in a different way. familiarity in static.

and maybe life is built for monotony. everything is circular, right? everything cycles over, life and death and the seconds in between. nothing ever changes. nothing ever changes.

i don't believe it, though. i don't want to.

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