Love does not leave. But sometimes I do. the love itself remains the same. I just have a quirky case of runaway-train-blues. I do not feel like leaving just yet. It wounds him beyond belief whenever I choose to run away. Running away without a compass, a map or even simply a place to stay. His regrets are many what can happen to a mentally ill person-a mentally ill woman-not any woman-but his wife-how can he keep her safe where she runs and flees the people who care the most?
Love does not leave. But sometime I do, the love itself remains the same.
how can i describe ? The feelings of a hurricane jammed into a small 5 x 7 picture frame, frightened to half-death, the weather is messy in here. The moods are wild and frenzied. The person is clearly misunderstood. But how can you understand a lunatic…
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