And I am not quite sure if I want to look up and find that the house is on fire or that my mind is telling me that my days are numbered. I worry easily that I will end before the story does. And yet I sit here and do nothing to put the finishing touches on the tale I have just barely begun. Does it really matter what of these fabricated categories i place this in, the meaning will be the same. At least today it will.
I look for so many reasons to start and only at the last moment of every day do I find that I already had and simply got lost in the scraps of what I was doing. So I close up shop for the day and think to myself that I will pick up right from where I left off, the very thought that revealed to me that I had hope in what comes next and I had some hand in creating my future. Yet I wake, time and again, with no memory of that thought and I start the struggle all over again.
Though I barely broke the rule the other day, it was the first time we were in the same location when the rule was broken. And the first time the name was said. I will not do it again. I regretted it the second I saw the look on your face. We only have so many days together, this is not for our friendship, this is for our sanity. I wonder if you will bring up what we had promised not to.