Mine is not an autonomous imagination.
When you catch yourself lying to your therapist, you know it's a waste of money.
I don't think I've left a trail of weeping women in my wake. I mean, the number of serious relationships I've had has not been into double digits.
Your heartbreak is just another version of the same old story.
I'd like to have the kind of house someday where a carousel horse wouldn't be out of place in the living room.
Something changed. Somewhere along the line you stopped accelerating.