The Carnival is Dead

The carnival holds no allure, its loud music and sweaty bodies a pale reflection of what it used to be, a hedonistic site reeking of pleasure which now, is lost to the recesses of the mind. Fun is illusionary. The company is sheer disappointment, unnecessary pressure on my Mustang self. I detest the chains of guilt and duty and that will be the last place that I imagined to be exacted on me. And that will be the last time I ever visit the Carnival.