My most beloved collaborator hates the spelling of your name. I didn't ask why, but I think I do,too.
How long am I going to keep throwing rocks at your window? You've always been a stone's throw away, I guess. Only a hop, skip, jump distance from me, but I'm going through flaming hoops. All this pomp and circumstance for not much of anything.
I don't feel cheated, though. There wasn't a promise between me and God that read if I cared enough, wrote so much, about someone, then it'd be reciprocated. The universe doesn't have a plan for me, or anyone, and I accept that. But I've got plans, I've got goals, and I'm going places. I just haven't thought about those places without you them.
I let go when there's absolutely nothing else left to hold onto. My hands are getting tired and my dexterity is better lent to creating content. I've got a universe in me and I've still got worlds to go.
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