I'm straddling happy and cluttered, stuck on a broken plank on some worn down bridge.

Darling, you're just hurting yourself. But then again, just by thinking about you, so am I—looks like we're no better than each other, fighting a war with only casualties.

I'm tired, but I've bitten off more than I can chew and I'm just trying to swallow my collateral damage.

I hope you're well. I hope you're not.

"But it might also be that you are getting drunk on painful thoughts and difficult feelings and old regrets. But whatever you are overindulging in now, you need to stop."
Horoscopes always manage to string some chords in your out-of-tune mindset.

Two more weeks and it'll all be over.
But I'm a failure either way.

In a week, I'll be another year older, but I've never felt more naïve.

It's just sad how attached we become to pieces of cloth and brick that will only wear down or break away.

Even how we make homes of people who were naturally born nomadic.

gd