In less than a month my work will be published. They’ll speak my own words and say that it’s rubbish. I’ll believe what they say and change my approach. I’ll wish that I hadn’t. I meant what I wrote.
Your words are sweet, your tongue is sharp, the way you speak is a work of art.
I’m drifting further and further away with every single word you say there’s no reason to stay all you give is take what a waste good day. ~ J
I’ve thought about this. Too much? Too soon to say. I’ve read about this. How long? The whole darn day. I’m worried about this. Again? Again. I could live without this. Without what? The end.
I came down from the mountains to see the view. Now I wish I was in space, I’d be over you.