Three months equals one quarter of a year. 90 days ago, we started talking again.
Off. On. Off. On. Off. On— Yawn!
Hello. Goodbye. I hate you. Get over it. Don’t cry. Hello. Hello. Goodbye.
One quarter of a year I realize I have wasted. It makes me think time means nothing to you. It’s like chewing bubblegum on a careless day, it doesn’t register in your brain, just as I never registered in your heart. « Read the rest of this entry »