Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second
hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly,
in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.
I don't like missing you. But I love having you to miss.
And in just a few more years
I'll prove everyone wrong.
You have no idea what it's like to be hours away
from the only thing that makes you want to wake up in the morning.
Ever have one of those days where you hate the world,
and anything that happens, even dropping your pen,
makes you wanna break down and cry?
It hurts more than anything when the memories that were keeping you together
become the reason you're completely falling apart.
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