All of my true friends are astronauts. My head is so full of winter. If you blur your eyes just enough, the streetlights below become a thousand tiny ghosts trying to make their way home. Shooting stars that are firing back.
Looking foward to filling picture frames again. All of this is, and has been adjustment... and my absence comes with a handful of "I'm sorrys."
A trunk full of explanations for my new friends. You know you've lived right when you have to document your past.
Life is what you manage in between the sweat and blood on the long road towards a dream.
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We will forever be a community of writers asking you to fall in (love) or be taken (hostage.) We only want to make you smile, and encourage you to pick up the pen, or start using those fingers on your keyboard!
