We made rolled tacos and guacamole last night.
I could eat that forever and a day.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
This Sorta Thing
Don't mind me. I'm just in a funk. Nothing you can fix. Nothing I won't get out of. I'm tired. Tired of not knowing. You can only search for so long until hope slowly disappears. Right?
I probably don't believe half of the things I write.
Will I ever fully be content? Will there be a day when I take a second to look around me and say, hey, I'm here. I've arrived. Life is at its best.
I miss Andrew and Rhiannon, James and Briana, Michael and Kristin, Kyle and Colette, Joel and Chrissy.
It's just going to be another one of those days I suppose.
So here, here we go again. Should I move right or left. Or just step back to check if I missed a step. Oh no, we can never be to sure when forever's on the line. Forever passed me by a hundred times tonight.
I probably don't believe half of the things I write.
Will I ever fully be content? Will there be a day when I take a second to look around me and say, hey, I'm here. I've arrived. Life is at its best.
I miss Andrew and Rhiannon, James and Briana, Michael and Kristin, Kyle and Colette, Joel and Chrissy.
It's just going to be another one of those days I suppose.
So here, here we go again. Should I move right or left. Or just step back to check if I missed a step. Oh no, we can never be to sure when forever's on the line. Forever passed me by a hundred times tonight.
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