I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. But it still wasn't enough. I find it kind of funny, but also kind of sad, that the circle I keep running, is the only thing I have. Strangely it's actually quite comforting at times, to feel like at least something is predictable. We're beautiful and there's nothing wrong with us, except for all those things we don't have the strength to admit to ourselves...
Hold on till it's over. Because believe me, it's about to get rough, even more so than before. It's sort of thrilling, isn't it? The choices we have to make everyday. They seem so little, so insignificant. But sooner or later, they lead to a crossroad, which changes practically every bit of who we are. One step at a time, but before you know it, you'll be looking down at a chasm of a cliff, wondering what path led to this moment. You won't have the willpower to jump, all you'll be doing is looking back at all those little decisions and you'll be wishing you could have another go...
A story. A man fires a rifle, then he goes to war, and afterwards he comes home and he sees that whatever else he might do with his life; build a house, love a woman, have a child, he will always remain a jarhead. And all the jarheads - killing and dying, they will always be me. I am still in the desert...
