You stated that nothing in your touch was casual and then fulfilled the expectations. Out of the blue, like some kind of totally fucked-up lightning of grace and mercy, you struck me as curious, nervous, shy, as open-minded and fitting as a wedding ring, so all that was left to be done was being sorry for not having been born with arms long enough.
First came waves of bashful chit-chat and a twisted game of fencing in reverse, with stars all over our cat-eyed faces, feet on the chairs and the shadow of seven different kinds of felines looming above us while your whole world was slowly collapsing into a brand new kind of void. Then came sorrow, in a perpetual Carnival of soulless excitement, charming drama and wanton regret, a feasting of slamming doors and whatnot. It all stopped when I took the first whimpering step forward, leaving every single principle torn asunder, at last.
The only way to end something is by starting it but you cannot be any fonder of your own destiny and there’s only three kinds of yes, so take your pick, buckle up, bring up your seat back and try not to be too ready when all of your dreams expectedly crash in the regular hurt feelings bonfire, leaving you finally satisfied, hopelessly disappointed, utterly unfixable.
But that’s just life, sweet sister.
Número de familiares en el extranjero: 1. Great Expectations.