carrieputscher
She's be given everything she could ever ask for, and yet it still adds up to a few grains of sand on a infinite beach. She's been given the sun, and yet it's still just a speck of stardust in borderless galaxies. The moon is hers to keep, a chunk of rock, whirling among countless other chunks of rock.
I miss my hair. It's gone, off to make a wig for an unfortunate cancer sufferer, like the ones my best friend wore before she died. I had phantom hair syndrome when I cut it off, so long ago I can't remember. I miss being able to braid it, but I'm happy at the same time.