Sometimes it feels like my sentences echo empty in a huge vault. Like I am alone here, but I’m not, right? I can see you in my statistics, a tidal wave of numbers. But why are you so quiet?
When you write to me, I get all dazed. I wake up in the morning, my mouth taste like tar, and then I think about the fact that I at least have you. But now I don’t know. Are you even here?
(UPDATED: THANK u everyone that has written here, mailed or witten about me: You are the dreams. And without dreams, the dreamer is just sleeping. Now, I Can't help but to post some of the beautiful things you write about me!
Love and blessings 2 all of you!)