A-buhhhh.

See, the thing about falling in love platonically is that when you move on something inside you becomes frail. It seems I've been stirring for years, and each time I become exhilarated by someone's persona my heart aches from the absence of another. I want to become so much more than this, but it's the remoteness inside me that seizes to resist. You know, it's not that I need your every moment or your constant devotion, in the slightest bit, but sometimes I just inspire to be missed..

All that you love, you lose...

Chaos leaves me with goose bumps, as the arms of apprehension remain wrapped around my throat. Since I can’t distinguish myself in distant eyes, I fear I’ll continuously fall into this obscurity without being able to heave myself out. You see, my arms are so frail, and my heart is no more than a dead-beat waiting to stop. My compassion is exhaustion waiting to halt…