There’s something temporary about your smile, I know you’re not here to stay. It seems I’m renting time. In a dream, I saw a different ending. But this is the reality. This is the thing they don’t tell you about in the story books. The constant reminder of our humanity. The pain, a single drop that dillutes your entire world the way a drop of red turns your water pink. I try to freeze my mind, freeze the picture frames. I tell myself I just need a moment to think. But I’ve thought it through, thouroughly through. You were a habit, a bad habit I intended to break. This isn’t my hurt, or my anger speaking. I swear, this time, it’s truth. Why must you make this so hard on us? Perhaps this is only a phase, a phase I’ve yet to outgrow. I just can’t bring myself to care enough to stop caring. I know I don’t make sense. Your selfish indifference is the murderer of what I thought was love. Love never dies a natural death. It’s murdered by narcisism or selfishness, failure to nurse it, just like any living thing. It’s asphyxiated when squeezed too tightly. I have so much to say, but still so little. I don’t know how to begin to express how I feel about the predicament that I’m in because I’m not quite sure what the dillemma is. I’m in way over my head, I was a thousand feet ago, but I keep digging myself deeper. ~breeana dianne