So I get home last night at 5:00 AM, and lie in bed 'till 8:00 staring at the ceiling, feeling my chest heave in and out, my throat tightening, my head racing, my palms sweating, my eyes clenched shut, and a slow burning throughout. Then I finally slept until noon.

Why must I always give my heart to the ones who care for it least?


(I really do know, actually. Its because in those crazy and desperate moments of sky high infatuation and the plummeting descent into misery, we almost never feel more REAL and ALIVE. )