At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it's own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.
For a long time I spent my weary days in a fog of what might be and what has been and I guess you could say im still learning how to accept what is.
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For a long time I spent my weary days in a fog of what might be and what has been and I guess you could say im still learning how to accept what is.
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This isn__ how things were supposed to happen. I was supposed to be me. Not this.