I have never understood someone so little as the way that I understand you. I have never been able to find a logical path in thought, in action, in heart to make any thing make sense. I find this to be both the most frustrating and wonderful thing about this. Is it better to know, or better to never know how one feels, how lives, how one dreams? Is it this that keeps my thoughts in constant motion and my fingers in constant creation. I suppose so. I suppose you would never know, unless, now you do.
Published by Erin Rose Belair
I write because maybe you have felt this way as well. Because none of us truly love or ache alone. View all posts by Erin Rose Belair