Wistful

Remember those days when all we fought about were pencils and crayons? When pages were canvasses of trials and temptation of the coming together of ink and paper? ♥ Remember those days when all we cared about were the paper boats struggling to sail in narrow ditches carved with fallen twigs in the pouring rains?... Continue Reading →

Maybe We Were Never Done…

I don’t know what happiness is. I don’t know what being content is. But I can hardly say I'm resentful anymore. When I think of the past, I think of everything that wasn’t. I think of everything there is now. I see the roads I've trudged and the ones I did not. I feel deep... Continue Reading →

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