dead-links.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm real, the kind of real that ants must wonder when they walk across my windowsill.

The kind of real that I wonder even exists, because when lightening flashes the only thing that reminds me it was there, is the thunder that follows eight seconds afterwards. I'm not quite sure I'm saying anymore. Lately, I wish I had a barcode, that told me who I was, and where I was going to go.

But I don't and I'm not sure whether I'm okay with that. I don't mean to be rude, but I wish sometimes God would understand that waking up one day in a place you don't understand, without the slightest idea of where you're heading is something quite daunting. I want to be able to remember something that makes my heart flutter. But the closest thing I can think of is the view outside my window (past and present) and how much it improves when it seems like the floor is rushing towards you.

Tybalt,

brought home some flowers today,

I stole them from Georgia's Garden.

don't tell her please.