She was a genius of sadness, immersing
herself in it, separating its numerous strands, appreciating its
subtle nuances. She was a prism through which sadness could be
divided into its infinite
spectrum.
Sometimes, you do things and you do them
not because you’re thinking but because you’re
feeling. Because you’re feeling too much. And you
can’t always control the things you do when you’re
feeling too much.
I've been sitting watching life pass from the side lines, been
waiting for a dream to seep in through my blinds. I wonder what
might happen, if I left this all behind, would the wind be at my
back? Could I get you off my mind, this time?