At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it's own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.
You are afraid to let anyone in, but you still leave the door open, hoping someone good will shut the door behind him and throw away the keys.
The Calligraphy of God
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You are afraid to let anyone in, but you still leave the door open, hoping someone good will shut the door behind him and throw away the keys.
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