An Indirect Letter

Tell me that I can have you because I want you so bad.

Tell me I don’t have to fight for it, because I never have

Tell me that you’re the only release I can find.

Tell me this magnetism isn’t just in my mind.

This passion, this fire, this spark,

a surge of whitest light in this growing dark

I’m dying of thirst

I’m burning alive

I’m gasping for air

tell me you’re mine.

Here at Front Page News restaurant in Atlanta with Kayla!

But I’ll be damned if I’m not having the time of my life.

This caesar salad is making me wanna dance…

IKEA or bust.

You’re one of those people I just want to shake and scream DON’T YOU FEEL ANYTHING?

Maybe you don’t, maybe you’re only surface. That makes what we did little more than some sort of necessary chore of life, just going through the motions, slave to whatever mood we’re in. It’s okay, if that’s how you’ve chosen to survive, i can’t judge you, it’s not like I’m doing a stellar job with my brand of living. I want to help you. I want to make you see that there’s a better way to live, you don’t have to hurt people, or be apathetic to everyone… but apparently I don’t know how to live that way either. I just wish I could understand why you are the way you are, but then again I wish I could understand myself.

Can I hear “If you do this, this will happen.” and not listen?

Remember. YOU are not the exception to any rule.