Friday, January 1, 2010

These memories are playing like a film without sound.

Missing is strange. Sometimes it isn't there at all. Then at other times, it swoops down and knocks you flat. It hurts in your guts and in your hollow heart and you want to cry but you can't and you don't, because there's no point.

/I keep thinking times will never change
Keep on thinking things will always be the same./

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