Some times.

The past keeps crawling me.

I hate it. I hate it so much.

Reminds me of the past, the days when I couldn't wait to my present times to be over with.

Days were also really long. Yet, just like now, years were short.

Sometimes I feel I am not living. I am just surviving. But some times I can suddenly feel so alive.

Some times I hate that. Some times I am grateful of myself for that.

That makes me different with most people - those who don't let themselves to live wholeheartedly.