persian.

the whole thing is a joy, we are the best country, the best family, the best company. in the media like in our photos, we smile, dim the light, find the right angle. in nostalgia is was always much better. underneath the veneer though insecurity and pessimism boils. like the wilting of a rose bud, as soon as we are conscious of ourselves the inevitable end starts to come. but we will not show it, we wont let others know that we too do not know how it will play out, that our ankle and back hurt and we are as afraid as anyone of the great unknown.

it is not death, although it feels like the coming attractions to something similar. physical pain, high fevers, shortness of breath, the flu has me in its grasp. souring any mood that might have made the earlier times more palpable. how did they do it, when things were so cold, hard, painful, how did the ones before make it for so long. we have a strong spirit to go on.

another day will come, what i want out of that is no pain, no strife, no problems. i sit and smile, without those things how would we even know we are alive. without the problems that game simply cannot go forward, there must be monsters chasing us and dead-ends for the game to move forward.