Is the sky really the limit?
I'm not sure. Sometimes I wish I could find an enchanted forest, with tiny little creatures that would care and look after me and I could just drift away. I wish for an escape at the very least. But I know that everybody does at times. I see the lines that I created myself and they make me sad. Sometimes I just think that I'm literally falling apart, being held together only by the tiniest of threads. What will happen when that eventualy snaps? I wish I could make it stronger, but I just cant seem to be able to find a needle or more thread anywhere I look. Sometimes it's like those lines define me. Sometimes it's like I let them.
Listening To- Running Up That Hill- Placebo
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