I havent written in a while. I said I wasn't going to but I can only stay away for so long. It is those things that you love that make you wonder why you beomce so stubborn over them in the first place. In writing, as well as in love, is anything ever really enough for you to hold a grudge against the act? Is a fear of myself enough to cause my absense from either one for too long? It is more simple than any anger I could ever harbor. You know, somehow, everything's going to be alright. It's all going to be okay. :)