I want a new past,new memories, a new first handshake with love. I want to start over in every possible way.
I would like my life to be a movie so I could cut to a montage.
Came to . . . see you.” “But I had to go home, remember? You were supposed to say good-bye.” “Don't know why you . . . say good-bye. I say . . . hello.” Her lip quivers between reactions, but she ends up with a reluctant smile. “God you're a cheeseball. But seriously, R—
How do I appear unthreatening when her lover's blood is running down my chin?
No praise, no blame. Just so.
I adapt to things quickly, including good things, which I wish I could shut off sometimes. My friends have to keep reminding me how crazy my life has become, and then it hits me fresh and I just slap my forehead and think, "Wait, what... ?"