Maybe in Another Life

Sometimes I worry I'll never fin a place to call home.

Life is just a series of breaths in and out. All I realy have to do in this world is breath in and then breath out, in succession until I die. I can do that. I can breath in and out.

Sometimes, despite how hard you try to fight your feelings, they show up in the glassiness of your eyes, the downward turn of your lips, the shakiness of your voice, and the lump in your throat.

Hearts are just like legs, I guess. They mend.

But I suppose just because something is hard
to understand, that doesn't make it any less true.

But the fact of the matter is that I worry that i'll
believe him too much, that I'll become too easily swayed into believing what I want to believe about him. I don't want to do
what would have done before. I don't want to believe what a person says and ignore what he does. I don't want to see only what I want to see.
I want to be realistic, for once. I want to be grounded. I want to
to make smart decisions.