The Earth never crosses it's own path. Not only is it not in
a circular orbit around the sun, it is not even in an elliptical
orbit around the sun. Everything drifts. Nothing matches the
architype perfectly. None of us is perfect. Everything is
imperfect. The imperfections create our identity. The only way I
know I exist is by my variation from the ideal. I am error. I am
alive.
I exist. It is soft, so soft, so slow. And light: it seems as though it suspends in the air. It moves.
I don't
hate you,
I'm just
not
necessarily
excited
about
your
existence.
hate you,
I'm just
not
necessarily
excited
about
your
existence.
Your
existence
gives
me peace♥
My, life no longer exists nor does my heart but I know one thing,
that she's my Life and I let her go because I was being stupid I'm
so sorry :( there's nothing I can do now there's no point in loving
anymore
