For the past three and a half hours I have been quite heavily submersed in the most magical love story I have ever read.
My head is now high in the clouds and my room is filled with sighs long past yet I feel downtrodden. My heart is reaching out, grasping at nothing but thin air and I am saddened, deeply and thoroughly. It's stories that evoke such precious emotion that make me reflect, make me think upon myself and the life I have yet to live.
Help is non-existent in the lilting phrases and gentle honey caress of Norah Jones whispering from my speakers.
The dark of night holds only the solace of my mind and thoughts buried deep during the light of day. It isn't safe alone in my room when the house is quiet and my mind is screaming, struggling against subconscious restraints. It's never safe.
I wish only to love and be loved, to care and be cared for. A wish the stars ignore having grown weary of the constant need of the human race. The stars hold no hope for me.
"As long as the day is full of time there will always be room for your hand in mine." Fall Apart Again by Brandi Carlile
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