i am vary of those timeless kinds. those where the vintage only makes it more irresistible. i am too tired running in circles and getting no where. my senses compromised by fear which i dont understand in full. the lump formed in my throat for losing what i never had, something i am too fond of, too dear. the tears of helplesness threatening to spill over the brim, before senses prevail. in the dark of the night the outside is clearer. i am too tired hiding, evading and denying..maybe it's time. maybe..

a tiny voice says - bad idea. this too shall pass.

I hate the voice. it always had more conviction and confidence than I could muster. I demand your help :)