Anonyblog

Oh_you

I am delusional. She lives one thousand kilometers away and anxiety still pounds at my door, tears me from my comfortable, stylish couch and throws me into the crowded streets of longing. I think about her every day because she is my password, my muse, she's like bleach on fabric- the mark never fades.

Not only am I delusional, however, I lie to myself also. I pretend like the next time you visit it might be forever.

And that's when you say, "Only forever?"