Seven years is a long time to build someone up.
What if I’m not what he expects at all?
I’m just tired of people loving an idea of me and not really seeing me.
Fake a whisper and make me think you have said something horrible about me like they do on all the cartoons and sitcoms. You’re just blowing air through your teeth, regulating its flow so that it sounds like the rise and fall of syllables linked together, making love. I know you don’t mean it.
There is no sound with us. It’s all in our heads. Sound is something that I dream of and then it becomes real. Like the sound of my heartbreaking or your sobbing coming from the world next door. None of it is real. It’s all broken glass and howling dogs.
You don’t even have tear ducts.
Lost ‘em in the war.
What war?
The war of losing ourselves to circumstance.
Calendar
Sara is enjoying swimming and the sun and can't wait to dye her hair!
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| 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |
| 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 |
| 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 |
| 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 |
