When You Need To Hold Onto Something,

Deep Breaths. I Am Taking Deep Breaths. Composure. Which, For Me, Means Composing... Maybe This Is My Way Of Creating The Illusion Of Control Over Something I Have No Control Over. Like, If It's Just A Story I'm Telling Or A Song I'm Singing, Then I'll Be Okay Because I'm The Guy Who's Providing The Words.

Belonging. Togetherness. These Words Are As Complicated And Confusing As The Word Love. It’s Probably All The Same Thing. Or It Would Be If We Let It Be. I Can Only Guess From Observation.

Love Weaves Itself From Hundreds Of Threads.

I Want You To Be Honest With Me. Even If It Hurts. Although I Would Prefer For It Not To Hurt.

How Sad It Must Be For You To Be Nothing More Than A Hollow Statue, To Have Your Tomb Preserved And Your Story Forgotten.