We can live with dignity; we can’t die with it.
Can I have my cake? Can I have you too? Would you follow me? Could I ask you to? Would the world between us break these ties we’ve worked so hard to realize? Can a postcard say what I see in your eyes?
...standing still is like running on ice—I only gain a little distance when I fall… tired of telling myself it’s okay to be this tired. this sick and tired of the turns the world takes and the people that it makes us be.
...Excuse me, are you lost? Perhaps you would care to visit the site map