
The happiest day ever was a Saturday in December.
I don’t remember that many happy times. I know they exist. There’s one of me riding a bike I come back to regularly. Much of my past is blurry, however. I have flashes and snatches, but my memory isn’t great when it comes to the day-to-day. I blame the unholy trifecta of trauma, PTSD, and age. Worst band name ever. I drifted into a relationship … Continue reading The happiest day ever was a Saturday in December.