I've fallen for the hypocrisy I took up to fight.
In three months, I will not be here. As for now, I am discontent to love and be loved. There must be some extraordinary magic to my life that leaves me so blessed; and I am blind to action. For whatever reason, I've become intent on possession. To own and be owned. It's abhorrent for me to recognize. When did I corrupt my love like this? The world has given me a beautiful friendship, and I would rather make slavery out of it. How many moments have I wasted in cold jealousy of everything I can see and touch, but never have? I tell myself it's a shame these things won't be mine, when it is literally right there in my arms. I have three months to do everything I didn't do in the last four years here; it's a real shame to waste any of that.
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