Better To End This Dream Before It

The Handwriting Was A Girl’s. I Mean, You Can Tell. That Enchanted Cursive.

Somewhere Between A Friend And Acquaintance—a Frequaintance, As It Were.

It's Not The Loving That Hurts This Girl; It's The Understanding Of It For What It Is, That It Will Never Be Returned In The Same Way, That Threatens To Destroy Her. But To Unload The Words - "i Love You" - On An Innocent Party Who Didn't Ask For It, To Reach Across The Dark Space And Touch Him - It's Like The World She Knows Could End If She Dared Speak These Words, Dared Make Such A Move.

That’s What I Like About Sports. No Matter If Everyone Playing The Game Speaks Completely Different Languages, On The Field, Or The Court, Wherever They Are Playing, The Language Of Moves And Passes And Scores Is All The Same. Universal.

Hope And Belief. I'd Always Wanted Hope, But Never Believed That I Could Have Such An Adventure On My Own. That I Could Own It. And Love It. But It Happened.