I feel more and more like I'm a prisoner in my own home.
At least my house, I'm not quite sure whether it feels like a home anymore, for the pure and simple fact that I didn't know what 'home' meant.
It sounds stupid, at least in my head it does, but I find homes in the spaces between your words, your black ink and slanted script that ends up increasingly scrawled as you write with passion, they are comforting.
I never understood safety until I found it encased in an envelope.
Gretna Green sounds good on paper, but this is not a fairy-tale, is it? Happily-ever-afters don't come free to people like me and you. I'm not naive enough to believe that there would be no heart-felt regrets.
But I won't regret it, never, because it would be worth every second, every hard sacrifice.
I'm terrified.
But it'll be okay, we'll be okay.
Yes, you can say you love me, just as long as I can too, because it's the truth.
I love you, with everything I am, and everything I will be.
F.
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A Lack of Understanding
Random'In 50 or 60 She'll leave me completely And one of us will coldly hold the others hand No metaphor for this that I can understand ... We'll be waiting in the shadows in the dead of night ... "Remember me daily." And all that will remain of us is pho...
