This is not a happy story, or in fact is it a story at all. This is my diary, an amalgamation of my thoughts, of my dreams and my demons, of my delusions and disorders, of my struggles and successes. This is what happens when I try to confront what lurks in the dusty corners of my mind, and when I try to steal my life back from the iron grasp of things unknown. This is not beautiful.
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I have looked at you in millions of ways and I have loved you in each
How about you loving someone that triggered easily? Do you want to hold him? or do you want let him go?
Their love never be easy