I really used to ponder in such a different form. I never knew how many crevices existed, once you stop reading between the lines. This growing ache then becomes a pain and I lay my head down and continuously think of all of the ways that I can commit to anything, maybe even an escape.

Do you have any idea, what it feels like to be lead yet chasing such speed? In a pace that was meant for him, but maybe doesn't work as well for me. I just want to be able to sleep, and not rise into deep wonder. There are quite a few things that indeed do still quiver me and I spend amounts of time considering the miracles within loses, that are quite clear. They'll never be near.

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