Grief is an emotion like no other.  You think that it went away, think you’re doing SO good, and it taps you on the shoulder when you least expect it.

// Self Synopsis//

I live to find love, to find meaning, to discover if Harry could really meet Sally.  Im on both sides of every track.  An extrovert: I talk to much.  An introvert: I expose to little.  Both out of fear.  What does it matter whether memories are real or fabricated?  They keep me in line.  Did I say line?  I mean roller coaster.  They keep me in hope, and in fear.  I work hard not to think.  To not over dramatize or analyze.  Yet I can never seem to work hard enough.  I am an exaggeration.  An under estimation.  I am nothing more than a compilation of complications.

I am This.

This never was before.

So how could anyone tell me how This works?