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What it really means to fall. - Am I asking too much...to keep you at arm's length? [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

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What it really means to fall. [Apr. 16th, 2008|12:19 am]
I thought it was dead. I thought it was over. Now I see. I see the truth and I see how I am the one that should be dead. She will never understand. I want to write them all letters. Everyone that's waiting. Waiting for love. Waiting for the one to come. Waiting for heroes. Waiting for heroines. Hold on with everything you've got. Occupy your mind with images of the bodies sprawled on the floor. Bodies thin and frail. Spirits broken and torn. Pathetic, dingy suits and skirts. Wait. Look again. There you go, dears. There are your saviors. Seems like the romance of modern day was an idea much too difficult to save. When you figure out the truth. Boy, oh! boy. You figure it out. You'll be one among the many casualties. You'll realize the entire time you've been clinging, you've been clinging upside down. Then. You'll realize the pain from blood in your fucking, foolish face just might kill you. The wait. Just might fucking kill you. Because they will never come. They will never save you. She will never save me from myself. So you might as well let go. You're dead already, anyway.