Since very young, a pattern began to call my attention, and, has pursued me as a rarely heeded warning for all my life.
Groups of three or more twos. I Hate them! Despite always trying to pragmatically ignore this coincidence. After forty-odd years, there's always been something awful in procession of these numbers. The worst being twenty two minutes past ten, 22:22 The time I either awake or decide the day has become too long to bear.
Oddly, over the many years, to whomever I point out this pattern, it seems to infect them also?
My absurd obsessive curse...as each group presents, I intend to note a pleasing memory that can still make me smile. Preferably a memory I have some form of image of...it's time to dust of some drives and retrieve some happy memories from the ashes, and place them here.
I've wallowed and suffered a myriad miles
I'm done with Earth's misery; despised it's lost smiles.
The sky may be black and my heart far too fractured.
I've tried all I can but this world's too manufactured.
I've done all your tests but you're all worse than me.
So here's where the smiles went. I've gone see a tree.
I've nothing left but broken memories, and they're fading rapidly. Let me have this one frame.
