mabelhastosay
I feel pressed for time when it comes to helping you. I can't eloquently express your meaning to me fast enough. I feel pressed against a wall. I need to help you.
Average: The tendency to be alike to most people of your social group, right? Well I don't want to be that. I don't want to settle for average, alright. To me that's mediocre. I want to be spectacular.
I hover in my dreams:
Hover over my future.
Hover over my goals.
Will it happen? Will it come true?
I hope so.
They say getting struck by lightning is more common than getting attacked by a shark. It is also more common than a love like ours, and that, my dear, is an obvious fact. More common, but a lot less painful, than this twisted separation. But, my sweet, if I were ever reborn into this twisted life, I would want nothing more than to come across this precious, excruciating, bitter-sweet thing I have come to know as your love.
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I don't need a megaphone to express my feelings for you. They pour out of my skin, my pores. They radiate off of my very aura. I can't hold in these feelings for you. They're uncontrollable. And, frankly? I don't care to.
Sticks, paired with stones, some glass, and maybe a bat or two, can hurt you. Right? Wrong? Physical pain is temporary. An illusion. Your mind is in full control, and when that is hurt, you are truly destroyed.