2:03 p.m. | 2005-02-25
It Might Just Be That Simple
We live in hopes and dreams. We live in expectations and understandings. We live believing that we will fulfill our destiny. We live thinking we will do it right. We live with the assumption that things will go as planned.
They never do.
Next year will be filled with composition notebooks and tattered pages. India ink will stain my fingers and love will fall from my eyes. I will look up at you, not down. I will watch more and talk less. Jean bottoms will be tattered and stained, a piece lost for every memory. Laughs will be subtle, love will be grand, and shoe laces untied. Leftovers will sit on counters. smiles will be worn during sleep. Hours will be worked and socks will have holes. Weekends will be stupid and hugs will be real.
And I'll be satisfied.
