[remember, its all in your head.]

backspace. there were some letters and some words, some spaces and some stops, but they don't live here anymore.
prerogative has always been a word laden with harsh tones, meanings and the unexpected. the unexpected, on the other hand, happens with monotonous regularity so that this and that are almost never what one sees in the here and now, rather one finds oneself quite without words. without denoting absence, but not loss. loss is deeper, more infiltrating into one's insides, when you feel all the cliches about a broken heart actually physically tearing through flesh. which is fallible, really - wounds always heal, but scars leave behind a mental note: don't do that again. is it unwise to find oneself in the same places with different people, to do the same things with different utensils? knives are pointy, but forks will tear you up inside. like cloth, ripped and shred to pieces so that its useless to anyone. why would anyone ever do that?
anyone - you could be anyone.