Is Where You're From The

When Two People Are Meant To Be Together, They Will Be Together. It's Fate.

I Cling To My Anger With Every Ounce Of Humanity Left In My Ruined Body, But It's No Use. It Slips Away, Like A Wave From Shore. I Am Pondering This Sad Fact When I Realize The Blackness Of Sleep Is Circling My Head. It's Been There Awhile, Biding It's Time And Growing Closer With Each Revolution. I Give Up On Rage, Which At This Point Has Become A Formality, And Make A Mental Note To Get Angry Again In The Morning. Then I Let Myself Drift, Because There's Really No Fighting It.

I Was Always Searching, Always Seeking The Next Big Thing, Because That Was The Thing That Was Going To Make Everything All Right Again. And While I Was Working Toward It, It Gave Me Something To Think About Other Than That Thing I Couldn't Put My Finger On. But It Always Came Back.

When I First Submerged My Feet Into Frigid Water, They Hurt So Badly I Yanked Them Out Again. I Persisted, Dunking Them For Longer And Longer Periods, Until The Cold Finally Blistered.

At This Moment, The Story In His Head Was Perfect. He Also Knew From Experience That It Would Degenerate The Second He Started Typing, Because Such Was The Nature Of Writing.