Facebook: The False Narrative

We live in a hyper-connected world where social media has dominated our lives. It’s a new phenomenon and we are the guinea pigs. Not since the telephone has the social fabric of society been reworked and so drastically altered. Although Facebook’s motto is to connect people around the world, I’ll offer a different take on the platform’s true intentions — one motivated by capitalism.

I’ve been on Facebook since 2007 towards the end of the Myspace era. That’s 11 years of data collection, photos liked, comments, and GPS coordinates from check-ins. It’s every advertiser’s dream to have access to such data about the population and reliable data that was willingly shared to the network. Any company who pays a fee can use this data in the form of an app to gather as much intel on someone to use as they wish — it’s Facebook’s best kept secret. When news broke of Cambridge Analytica’s use of private Facebook data in the 2016 election was revealed, was anyone really all that surprised they knowingly engage in such business? Their stock price has had year-to-year exponential growth since going public. This isn’t just merely from growing the user base as some would lead you to believe. It’s all business. Data collection and selling of said intel. Brands love Facebook and with their highly sophisticated targeted ad system, makes it a lucrative business to have as much of the population on there as possible.

What would one make of their motto: to connect people? Bullshit. Do you really think saying happy birthday on someone’s wall has the same impact as face-to-face? Of course not. Do you really think people care where you eat, check-in to, or go clubbing at? Fuck no. How many times have you walked by that one “friend” on your Facebook in Isla Vista, but did not wave hello? We all are part of a social experiment. Likes, thumbs ups, and hearts give us a small shot of dopamine. We share and engage on Facebook to get our fix. Most are unaware of this phenomenon. We do it subconsciously because we crave and desire validation. We want to know we are liked. It’s addictive. The feedback loop engulfs us as our biological reward system is exploited to consume as much of our time and consciousness as possible.

My Facebook usage peaked in 2014-2015. Senior year in college will do that. How else can you tell everyone about your massive end of the year rager on Sabado? Facebook. Just a few clicks of the mouse and 1000 of my friends were notified of the party. Of course I didn’t know everyone on there that well, but that’s kind of the point when you’re trying to have a good time in college. You add everyone to see where they are and what they’re up to. You drastically increase your social life and before you know it, you’re the most popular guy around. It’s easy. The fear of missing out is strong. Whether you want to admit it or not. Do you remember everyone’s name when you see them? No. How about that girl you’ve just added and been flirting with all night? Good luck with that. Not a chance, baby.

Real world or post college life leads to massive drop in engagement on Facebook. Your one party friend isn’t posting about EOS or clubbing anymore every weekend. Time to get your shit together and get a job. Real world motherfuckers. It’s jarring. A large percentage of post college grads do experience depression following college. Whether you can attribute this to losing the high life or the lack of engagement on social media is not yet clear.

No one goes on Facebook to tell everyone how miserable they are. Every post is generally added with the intent of garnering likes and validation. Sure — some people are on Facebook do tell everyone how much of a Debbie-downer they really are, but this is rare. The absolute exception. Think of your friend’s profiles as their greatest hits album. One that is carefully crafted and curated to be the most desirable aspects of yourself and viewed the most favorably. Maybe it’s pics of a fancy restaurant you’ve been eating at, that new watch you just gotten, or the high paying job others been dreaming of. We naturally share what we want others to like about ourselves.

Tread with caution. Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat are fun. But take what you see on there with a grain of salt. That friend with over 1000 friends is likely no happier than the next guy down the list. There’s evidence to correlate high friend counts with lower life satisfaction. Do not get caught up on the false narrative and lose your happiness. Your mental health will suffer. Be thankful of the life you have.

Later world.


Friend or Foe

If your best friend does blow and you allow it, does it make you accountable for his actions? Friends stick together after all and we wouldn’t let them jeopardize their own safety. Julian was never one that was great at keeping it together. Life hits him like a truck and he hasn’t had the best methods of coping with stress. It’s a shame really. Behind the happy-go-lucky demeanor, lies someone who’s awfully sad and depressed inside. I’ve done as much as I could to have him open up to me about his struggles, but there’s more that needs to be discussed.

I wasn’t always a good friend. I enabled him. When a girl he was seeing was unfaithful, he spiraled out of control. He drank a ton and I did so with him. I could not allow him to get drunk alone. Fuck you Monica. If he didn’t want to spend his money on booze, I used mine without hesitation. He needed a pack of smokes, but was broke, I was right beside him at the checkout line card in hand. I did him wrong, but the alternative was to see him in despair and that I could not stand to see. Take this pill and before you know it buddy you’ll be feeling just fantastic. He was seeing Molly every night.

An interesting effect of lady M is how quickly one starts opening up to you. Earlier in June, while high as kite, he confessed he was not okay — far from it. Julian was depressed to the point of wanting the only way out — death. It shook to me to my very core. The misery of living had reach nearly its limits and he could not go further. Why? How? What’s the matter? I could not grasp the bars holding him back to and give him guidance. His mind was a mess, tortured, and beaten — but this was years in the making. We all knew.

How one can contemplate not living knowing there are friends and family who love you bothers me to the depths of my soul.

Later world.






vain:┬áhaving or showing an excessively high opinion of one’s appearance, abilities, or worth.

The thin line dividing vain and confidence becomes blurred at a certain point in a person’s life. Ego takes over. You walk around with supreme confidence in the office and have everyone’s admiration. Some are intimidated by you. It’s good and bad. Good in the sense it’s a sign of respect and authority. Bad in the sense they slightly fear you. The company is staying afloat because of you. People are getting paid because of you.

You buy expensive clothes, but always had and have a nice car to match. Your watch isn’t really to tell the time. It’s just decorative in the age of smartphones. The two women in the office notices. One admits she likes you. It’s the blunt honesty that charms her. They’re always observant. You don’t say a word to them some weeks, but they can smell your cologne when you walk by. Sauvage by Dior motherfuckers. You buy a new fully spec’d out MacBook Pro you’ve been eyeing for over a year. You get work done on your teeth. Not because you have to. It’s purely aesthetics. People notice. By the end of the year you’ll have that Hollywood smile you’ve always wanted and no longer need glasses. Lasik is the shit. How does one stay grounded then?

I do me and only me. Who gives a fuck what other people think. We all have to be a little self-centered to meet our goals. The cosmos are chaotic and it’s even a miracle we are alive on this rock we call Earth. Everything in space is devoid of life and uninhabitable. The universe doesn’t owe you anything. Take what is yours.





Sobering Love: Part 3


Long before we broke up, Kristie and I were always good friends. Very close to the point she would tell me her deepest darkest secrets. The trauma she faced with her family and the abuse she felt at the hands of someone she trusted. It saddens me to remember this. When I broke the news to her I was now single, she became worried and asked a myriad of questions. Why? How? What happened? Are you okay? It was comforting knowing she cared so much.

We would text every week when she studied abroad in Japan. Just minor things such as, how’s it going, what’s new, and how ya feeling type of chats. I think it was after the first 6 months of her stay that it became clear she was homesick. She grew tired being alone in the land of the rising sun.

Many of her friends would say they would visit her and spend time with her in Japan, but I knew they wouldn’t. Most people are just that — talk. It’s cheap. I missed her a great deal actually. Unlike everyone else, I followed through. I had a crazy idea for her. Spring break 2014 was just around the corner, “How about I visit you in Japan?”. She was ecstatic and overjoyed, “Really? Are you for real?” she asked. I was dead serious. It was simple. Buy a round trip ticket to Japan and come up with a rough idea what we were to do for the week I was there.


Just a mere $957.90 later, the trip was scheduled. I could almost see her jump from joy when I first messaged her the confirmation email. I was going to fly half way around the world for one person and one that I loved and cared for deeply.

I remember arriving at Narita Airport and she was no where to be found. She had a habit of being late actually, 30 minutes late. But when she arrived, we hugged — hard. She couldn’t believe I was here. We bought tickets for the train and she said, “I can’t believe you’re actually here and with me. Dude, I just can’t even.” I told her, “Well, I always follow through. Don’t I? You know that.” She was thrilled beyond comprehension and looked at me in awe.

We went all over the country, every big city, Shinjuku, Kobe, Ginza, just everywhere. The countryside was the most interesting since it was so devoid of the tall buildings of the city and simple life was what everyone there grew up with. It’s warm and amazingly thrilling to see the world with someone. It’s the feelings words cannot fully describe or fathom in the confides of the English language. Just bliss — but that’s an understatement.

When we had to say good-byes, think of that cliche Hollywood scene of a couple hugging and crying at the terminal wishing this didn’t have to be and time could stop. We were that. My eyes grew heavy, her’s cried and rolled down her face. I felt an overwhelming sense of grief and couldn’t compose myself as a man. We embraced for what felt like hours. I held her tighter and tighter, but the plane was leaving soon.

“Don’t cry. You’ll make me cry. You be good now. I’ll text you right when I land. I promise.”

She cried a ton when I made it back to the states. Around this time was when the cracks in my wall began to widen and reveal more than I wanted her to know. This trip made us very close and I was her priority throughout the day. Naturally, she would begin to catch on. I never lied, but selectively chose what I said and told her. A carefully crafted interpretation or narrative if you will.

Some nights she’d catch me completely hammered beyond comprehension from drinking among other things, but played it off as just another night in this college town. This town had a reputation and she had no reason to think my drunken behavior was any different. My poorly written texts to her were just signs I was having fun as usual. There was no reason to think I took illicit substances beyond the typical ones found growing in the back of someone’s yard. She would always tell me the same thing, “stay safe and don’t party too hard”. She was just the sweetest thing ever.

What gave it away was my inability to not text back immediately after she did. I only do this for people I care about and she was atop that list. If I like you, I text back instantly. She frantically told me late that night she was about to miss her flight and needed my help with directions. Her phone was running low and I was her only hope. Locally, it was well past midnight and unfortunately, I took a number of things a few hours prior. I felt great — amazing even, however synthetic the feelings were. Unfortunately, I could not move. Think of that scene from The Wolf of Wall Street where Leonardo Dicaprio’s character falls to the ground after using the payphone — minus the spasms of course. Yeah — that fucking bad.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that right now.”

She sent a long string of question marks. She asked why. I’ve never been one to lie and tonight was no exception. It was time to come clean. I told her what I took, what I was on, why I couldn’t move off the couch and devastatingly, how long I’ve engaged in such activities. She. Was. Not. Pleased. Not the least bit.

I passed out soon after. I awoke to a few more texts and messages, but I knew the outlook was not positive. We were going to have a talk and a very heartbreaking one at best. It’s the fragility that lies within trust that makes relationships worth being vulnerable for someone, you balance it merely by being honest. No matter what you say, it must be all the truth and nothing less. I told half truths and soon she pieced together everything quickly. How I managed to keep myself from smoking cigarettes with her in Japan, why I suddenly backed out of going to a club with her while on our last night in town. It all made sense to her now.

“So you lied to me? Who the fuck are you?”

The person she met all those years at PCC was long gone. I had no other way of telling her. She was absolutely crushed. Her language and behavior became combatant as if I was the enemy. The one person she trusted and loved dearly betrayed her. I fucked this up and bad. I let her say whatever her heart or mind desired that day. I took it all in, letting it hit my heart and soul like daggers sharpened just for my body. I let her win, but I wanted to lose. I lost her forever and this was the absolute end of the road.

Years later, I sent her a message not expecting a reply back. It was an apology of how I ruined what we once had and what she meant to me before I changed into a monster. I was afraid of what she would think I had become, but looking back, I was not ready to accept myself. I crossed over to the dark side, alone and without anyone to tell me no. Drinking and drugs are only fun for so long. Reality comes back to bite you. Surprise motherfucker. I let myself down and costed our relationship.

Impressing a woman is easy, but being with her is hard if you think about the landscape of a relationship. It sets up an impression of yourself to her. If she likes it and isn’t preoccupied with other matters, you’ll see her more and more. Maintaining a deep connection is challenging. Your actions can’t just be thought of yourself. There really is no I anymore, but we. She would of always have been that sweet, funny, and upbeat girl I met in college.

Lessons Learned

  • sincerity is paramount
  • the fine line between drug abuse and late night fun quickly disappears
  • you have problems; don’t love until they’re fixed
  • ego takes over quickly; you need to stay grounded
  • Which Danny are you? Ask yourself this constantly until you have an answer.

Later world.


Sobering Love: Part 2


Looking back, she was trouble from the start. Our first date, she inexplicably told me she had daddy issues. Those exact words. I probably should of ran, but I’m nice. Perhaps it’s not that bad. Oh how wrong I was about Lia.

This was a new experience for me. My early years, I remember only liking Hispanic girls. All my friends were Hispanic and we never questioned our friendship and obvious differences in ethnicity. For me to date a Chinese girl was unexpected and a bit uncomfortable.


She was petite. Only 5 feet tall. Pale but not to the point she never went outside. Her face was round and she had the most striking auburn eyes that could pierce through any man’s soul. There was not a day she did not wear makeup. Everytime we hugged, her face was smushed into my chest. She found that annoying.

This woman had the most insane temper I’ve ever endured. Her mood swung on a dime and behavior became erratic. Her drinking was questionable and likely a sign of the depression she held within. Her family was from Nor Cal and from wealthy Cupertino, CA. Her dad made millions in a pyramid scheme masquerading as an investment fund. He was married twice and both times divorced.

Her mom was of similar height and so were her two older sisters. I never met them enough to have an opinion, but by all accounts, they too were unhappy. Her best friend Lucia was her ride or die, but secretly, they both hated each other. How two women can be best friends but harbor such negativity for each other is beyond me. These were all bad signs and I should of seen this from a mile away.

Once she got comfortable, I became her doctor. But like some patients at the office, some don’t follow the doctor’s orders. Far from it actually. Her pessimistic outlook began to take a toll on me. She wanted my love and affection, but had to bring me down to her level. Life was dark and gloomy even at my highs. It sickens me to think such a person exists. When I wanted to break it off the first time, she threatened to commit suicide if I followed through. I did eventually, but only after I lost sleep and felt like I endangered someone’s life in the process. We’d get together again, but she lied about changing her ways. People like that are as they always have been. You can’t change them.

It wasn’t always like this. As most beginnings are, things were peachy. Some people only like the beginnings of things — so I hear. She was sweet. Texted back instantly, always told you she missed you, and made it abundantly clear she needed you. It’s cute in the beginning, but tiring in the end. Overwhelming even.

2013-09-18 18.14.40.jpg

Her dad would go on these month long business trips to Asia or the east coast to meet with new clients. She naturally threw around the idea of having me come over and stay a while — a very very long while. We basically lived together for at least 25% of the time I was in a relationship with her. Word of advice — do not ever live with your girl friend of less than one year. Shit is going to south and fast. Normally, if two people have their differences, they can just leave each others sight and make up later. Not when you live together. There is no later. No privacy. No you time. Either you make up now or basically never. Worst idea ever.

She wasn’t all bad news. She taught me how to cook and very well I might add. I got my foot firmly through the door with my first serious job because of her. When my car was totaled in an accident just one week before my start date, she drove me to Santa Monica and waited all day for me. Love does that. If it weren’t for her insistence on making better use of my free time, I might not have such a strong work ethic or motivation to reach my goals. For that, I could give her the world as a symbol of my appreciation.

Santa Barbara was the ultimate test. If I moved there, can we continue the relationship doing long distance? The short answer is no. I gave it my all. Texted her as much as one could taking four classes every Monday to Friday and 16 units, but she was never satisfied. She needed me physically and was too needy. When I was busy with my new life in SB, her mind ran wild. Her thoughts became delusions that lead her to think I was seeing other women. The accusations came daily. I fucking hated this about her. I swore if I ever met another woman who treated me like this, I would drop her from my life instantly.

Lives carry on. Not everyone is part of the journey. I’m the captain and there’s only so much room on my boat. Lia made me realize relationships are more than just liking someone, it’s bidirectional, requires reciprocation, and more importantly, doesn’t have to be forever and ever. No one says you have to put a ring on her just yet. If you gave her your all and she can’t see it any other way, it’s best you turned around and without her.

I can only hope anyone I’ve been romantically involved with finds their place in the world. One full of promise and positivity. Breakups suck, but I’d never want anyone to suffer long term. We are born into this world loved and we will leave being loved.

Lessons Learned

  • you’re nobody’s therapist
  • threats are meant to control you; drop her
  • third time is definitely not the charm
  • the way her family responds to you speaks volumes
  • money isn’t everything; don’t let anyone convince you otherwise
  • verbal abuse is real and not acceptable
  • if she self-harms, walk away; she can’t be helped



Sobering Love: Part 1

If we think back to past relationships where you were truly in love with them, does it bring a smile? Mines do. It’s an interesting emotion to have knowing that they ended and we have long since gone our separate ways. You can still think fondly of them. You look at pictures from years ago and remember vividly the day leading up to it.


She was one year younger than me. We had the same intro to philosophy class and I remember her being particularly intelligent with her responses. Book smart is the best word to describe her. She had curly brown hair with matching eyes. Skin was pale and even a few freckles. It’s a particularly cute combination. Not once did she ever wear even a sliver of makeup. She didn’t have to — a truly naturally beautiful woman.

The semester at PCC where we met, I was in full blown academic probation. 2011 was stressful. Fail another class and I’ll get kicked out. Class was always around 2 PM, but I was always on campus in the morning to study in the library. I always had a tall pike and my MacBook filled with exam notes and lectures from all the previous classes ready for review. This class was immensely hard and I had not the slightest idea how to properly study yet.

The library at PCC was always packed, all the time usually. Getting a booth was hit or miss. I usually wanted a seat next to the window so I can every so often peer out onto Colorado and see everyone walking. It’s mundane, yet calming. On this day, I was not so lucky. I had to get one of those seats with the booths joined in a long row. I always felt it made you and the next person over uncomfortably close to each other. You can hear everything they’re doing. Yuck.

I sit down and I remember she sat to the left of me. I recognized her immediately from class. She had her earphones on and music was in full blast. Too loud actually. She was hunched over the table in boredom. That was the first time I recall seeing her. Fast forward a couple weeks, I go to the library like I normally do. Upon entering, I see her again, this time, walking down the stairs. She had her characteristic tote bag in an otaku design. I think it was from a Japanese band she liked. It wouldn’t be until the next class where I finally spoke to her.

I always was early for class, like, 30 minutes early. Usually, there’s not anyone there yet. Who would be excited to go to philosophy class? Said no one. This day, she was. We awkwardly stood on opposing sides of the hallway. She’s texting on her phone for a good ten minutes before I work up the courage to talk to her.

“Hey, you seem bored. What’s your name?”

Smooth? Not really. Effective? You bet it was. Normally, a person’s name is not very interesting or unique right when you first hear it, but her’s was. It’s Kyle. Not Kylie. Kyle. She probably gets asked this ad nauseam, but her response was, “it just is”. We chat some more and I even decide to sit next to her in class. Call me the luckiest guy ever, but I ran into her the following week and on a day where I didn’t have philosophy class. We stopped immediately and I asked her what she’s up to. We talk and eventually sit on a bench since standing can get awkward really fast. I think it was around this time I got her phone number and also AIM. You know. AOL instant messenger. Old school shit.

We start texting. I find out she lives in South Pasadena, the city over from mine. She’s originally from Shadow Hills, CA and grew up on a ranch with horses. She lived in Beverly Hills before settling in South Pas. She was always artistic even as a child. Her art was incredible and still some of the best I’ve seen. Her dad, Kurt, was a lawyer, but was struggling financially from what I recall. Her mom, Janet, had lupus and she got regularly checked for it just incase she developed it too. Her younger sister, Eryn, wanted to be an actress.

Our first official date was after finals. We “hungout” a few times before then, usually around campus or the nearby Starbucks on the corner. The day of my last final, she was already done with all of her classes, including the class we shared. She waited alone in the hallway for me for a couple hours until I was done. To this day, it’s still one of the kindest and sweetest gestures from a female I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing. The days leading up to it, she was excited to wear this black dress she got from the thrift store. I loved it and my god was she a stunner. Classy yet beautiful. Sweet yet alluring. A tall glass of water. It was a summer time romance with someone having beauty and intelligence to match.


I went over to her place plenty, usually taking the bus to get there. The summer was hot, but knowing she was waiting made it a breeze. Her mom was kind enough to give me a ride home every night. Every good bye, she had her hands and face pressed against the car window like a child who couldn’t let go. It was so adorable. She did not want me to leave. We were in love.


But behind the dates and get togethers, I knew she was unhappy. Depression was a common topic and her sister was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. She probably had it too, but never did anything about it. Her thoughts and words can get dark fast and for no explicable reason. I sometimes caught a look without her mask on. The sadness lurking inside just peeking out. It pains me to think it was a possibility. 2011 was the early testing phase for me. I didn’t have my shit together just yet and coupled with her fears about the future, she broke up with me. The pain is long gone, but the thought remains. We shared one last kiss that day. It wouldn’t be the last I ever saw her, but I think so fondly of her even now.

I often wonder if she’s still in the area. What became of her hopes and dreams. If she ever found what she was looking for. I like to think if we ever ran into each other, we would reconnect again. She would be just a little impressed at the current me. The “new Danny” if you will.

Lessons Learned

  • don’t get into relationship too fast
  • love slowly
  • be mindful of what she tells you
  • warning signs are everywhere; don’t be a fool
  • get your shit together first
  • you’re not the solution; she has to find it herself

Proceed with Confidence



Next Stop: Blind Ambition

If you look at how some people preoccupy their time, you’d think most men are lost in their journey through life. Video games, drinking, smoking, vaping, and drugs are just vices to kill time. I hate that phrase “to kill time”. There’s really nothing more special than the ultimate luxury. Every fucking second matters and I wouldn’t want it go to waste or cannibalize it. Have goals and find ways to reach them. It’s an attractive quality to have as a man after all. How can anyone go on living not knowing what they want this minute, this hour, this day, this week, this month, this year? The very thought infuriates me to no end.

That is the paradox of living. We get too comfortable going with the flow and before you know it, time is forever lost. I think that’s what some consider the mid-life crisis. I’d be damned if I ever let that happen to myself. If you spend enough time contemplating life, you’ll have a list of what isn’t to your satisfaction and a general idea of how to reach or fix them — goals.

goals: the object of a person’s ambition or effort; an aim or desired result

Some men consider setting goals as an easy way to become disappointed. You risk not meeting them. Bullshit. There are infinitely more topics to be disappointed in than not meeting goals. If you start with that type of mindset — a la defeated, you’ll never fucking make it in this world. Anything is possible and it’s never out of reach.

You can safely assume ambition and goals go hand and hand. If one is ambitious, goals can be attained. What to make of blind ambition then?

Blind ambition is when ambition prevents people from seeing what’s happening around them. Sometimes we need to block out what is happening around us in order to do what seems impossible.

I can assume a large portion of my ambition is blind. I honestly will stop at nothing to reach them. Relationships will suffer. You put yourself over everyone else and that’s just what it takes. I know my PCC days royally fucked up my relationship with the guys, but in the end, I graduated, got my 3 associates and transferred the fuck out of there to paradise. It was bitter sweet. It takes a level of obsession and fixation to get where you want to be. Call it being selfish as Mayra puts it. We only have one life and if you can’t go on living knowing you gave 100%, then why are you even trying?


There’s No Going Back

I wanted a fresh start, okay? I’m entitled to that.”
– Betty

“There is no fresh start! Lives carry on.”
– Henry Francis

These two quotes come from Mad Men. It’s stuck with me ever since. The desire to want a new start, but knowing there is no such thing. The want in forgetting trauma, sadness, and grief is only naturally part of living. They say time heals all — maybe.

Why cheat? Life has ups and downs. For some, more downs than up. Such pain in living brings character and better mechanisms for coping later on. If I could rewrite every chapter in my life, would I?

Fuck no. Joy wouldn’t feel so good if it weren’t for pain. All that brings pleasure is not all good. I never did like hedonism.

What am I to make of this year? 20 fucking 18. Two thousand and eighteen. I’ve been alive for almost 27 years and the apex is near. This month has tested me to my limits and maybe more than one can handle. I’ve reached every goal I set forth, how can the future not be within reach?

“My life only goes in one direction. Forward.”

– Don Draper

Life is much like being on a boat in the middle of the ocean. Some days, the weather and water is calm, quiet, and serene. Other days, the waters are chaotic and rough. Those days you’re at risk of tipping over. You come close, but never do. What lingers is the shock. Trauma even.

Those who rough it out with you are there til the end. Others jump overboard, bail, and aren’t part of the voyage. You miss them, a lot. You want them to stay because the waters always return to being calm. But it’s too late. Not a life raft or float can save them. Some have drifted far away in the ocean.

What matters is knowing who’s still around for the voyage. Perhaps my destiny is to be a castaway with the ones who stick around.


Untitled 08/05/2018

Dearest dawn of the morning eve

Had the sun fallen to the depths

My conscious would never be

Save forth the passing moment from we met

Let days go dark and winters cold

From fading love of dreary past

Run the tides and times grow old

I’m falling falling darling, fast

I can’t bare to love.