I Wake Up Feverish, Sore, Uncomfortable. Is

Maybe There's A Way To Keep Us In This Moment. Not The Sad Part. But The Coming Together Part.

And I, Who Have Never Thought In Terms Of A Life, Think To Myself That I Could Make A Life Out Of This.

Putting Up With The Fear Of Being With The Wrong Person Because You Can't Deal With The Fear Of Being Alone.

It Daunted Me That You Were So Beautiful, That You Were So At Ease In Social Situations, As If Every Room Was Heliotropic, With You At The Center. And I Guess It Daunted You That I Had So Many More Friends Than You, That I Could Put My Words Together Like This, On Paper, And Could Sometimes Conjure A Certain Sense Out Of Things. The Key Is To Never Recognize These Imbalances. To Not Let The Dauntingness Daunt Us.

I Am Learning That A Life Isn't Real Unless Someone Else Knows Its Reality. And I Want My Life To Be Real.