You confuse me infinite amounts with your uncertainty that I willfully chose to ignore yet I feel small and weak and I just want to migrate away already. I know this is hard, I knew it would be, but I miss you even just as a friendly face and I keep telling myself to keep some of my wants at bay because in the end I will end up crying in my bathtub regretting mistakes I didn’t make. Despite all your charms, due to all your charms, my dreams haunt me and I find myself in doubt, a dubious emotion I hap not much experience. What use have you got for my old English slang anyhow? Our lives are different, my paths are crooked and hard to find amount the dreams that grow into trees and weeds, shading the paths from visibility. You end up in writing being of such importance that my stoic demeanor would not reveal, why make vulnerability a trait you can see when you will only exploit it. My comforts are gone and so is any feeling in my limbs, my stomach is mercifully shedding its remaining pains.
We are not one but two, you see. Now more than ever you are changing in front of me and I don’t know if this experience will bring as much to me as to you. You want to taste all the apples in the orchard while I rot away with my worms and shading myself from the sunlight. Or perhaps I am wrong and I am just too high to reach, this is the impression I at least wish to create. Every song plays the tune, we are done, perhaps too soon.