What do we do. Struggling all our lives to live tomorrow and live the moment for the next one. Simple pleasures, everyday entertainments and "fun"?

Left behind.

We're not listening to our hearts but the logic -which I'd believe, with such limited info, as since our ability to comprend life as a whole is quite limited, how can we find the solid "fact" by "logic"?- and thus.

The scornful pain of love's been striking me for a couple of days, however abnormally aimed, the feeling's just the same. I would ever do anything to learn that I were more than a mere shadow for her; situationally, them.

But that's how it works, I guess; for every piece of heart I've broken, I'm writhing twice the pain.

L'inspiration.