I cannot rush of into dream land, holding your hand, pretending that I'll be more then a bump in the road. It is to much. It is not enough. It is hot tears and a cool breeze.
Love you.
Because that isn't how the story ends. I'll just be the smudge on a page, the girl with messy hair hiding in her messy bed cursing possibilities.
~ Let me know when I wake up.
