The Blood in my Body.
I would love to believe that one could will oneself to feel or be a certain way permanently. But that's, really, akin to being washed over by a severe wave of deceit. What's sad is when it recedes, one is left with a vast shore of desperate... but passive emptiness.
I told myself that I would love to preserve myself for you, but is that what I really want?
I hate to re-evaluate myself over, and over, but I might have to get down to serious thinking. For I detest dragging this deformed foetus of naivety around - mainly because I thought I stopped when I walked and stumbled upon your corpse.
I told myself that I would love to preserve myself for you, but is that what I really want?
I hate to re-evaluate myself over, and over, but I might have to get down to serious thinking. For I detest dragging this deformed foetus of naivety around - mainly because I thought I stopped when I walked and stumbled upon your corpse.
