i realised this at a really young age. i would look at old pictures and think, “these people are dead and people loved them and mourned the loss” and i would undertake feelings and be sad. i was like 7 or 8.

maybe i was a morbid child. i don’t know. or maybe i had a firm grasp on something i didn’t quite understand. i don’t know. or maybe i was just an over-analytic child. i don’t know.

who knows.