"I used to draw"
"I used to write"
"I used to sing"
"I used to play guitar"
"I used to have friends"
"I used to dance"
"I used to sew"
"I used to be happy"
"I used to I used to I used to I used to-"
I can’t articulate it, but there’s a spark I always used to have that’s simply gone out. Like an excitement I used to have about life and things, just out. It’s a niggling sadness I can’t quite put my finger on.