There's A Fine Line Between Love And

They Say A Story Loses Something With Each Telling.

I Can’t Even Think About What Life “could Have Been” Like In Boston, Without Crying. It’s Like Deja-vu, I Don’t Think Me And Boston Were Ever Meant To Be.

Alone Because Love Was One Of Those Feelings That You Could Never Have Control Of. And She Needed To Be In Control. She Had Loved Before, Had Been Loved, Had Tasted What It Was To Dream, And Had Felt What It Was To Dance On Air. She Had Also Learned What It Was To Cruelly Land Back On The Earth With A Thud.

Oh, That Fighting For Peace Is Like Screwing For Virginity.

I'm Most Happy When I Am Writing At Night, Because I Need Space And Time To Write.