What Makes Sense and What Doesn't.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

I am what I allow

Lonely is when you're in bed with the person your heart beats for, and you're worried if your shoulder is the sufficient distance away from theirs, in order not to annoy them. Lonely is when your heart screams, but your lips are frozen. Loneliness is made of lies, born from fear. Lies grow, until you stop believing. Or begin seeing. Lies for lies. Fear for fear. Truth for truth. I'm lonely. Sign in to see full entry.

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