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.
Hopes are like hair ornaments. Girls want to wear too many of them. When they become old women they look silly wearing even one.
Memoirs of a Geisha
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Hopes are like hair ornaments. Girls want to wear too many of them. When they become old women they look silly wearing even one.
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This isn__ how things were supposed to happen. I was supposed to be me. Not this.