I know what it is but I am sad because the world benchmarks it on another scale entirely and I know that scale is wrong. They'll never believe me if I tell them. But I'm glad that I know.
This morning I don't love her, well not like I loved her last night. Last night she made me laugh so much. This morning I have only a head ache to remember her by.
How can I miss, so much, that which did not exist?But I do.I'm going to distract myself by calculating the amount of breaths that are hidden inside the nooks and crannies of this old tree. And by the time I finish, perhaps that which does not exist, will.Excuse me...