not_ready_to_be_okay raze what we live with isn't sand — it's the root of all evil. there's always that third trimester, irrigated by tone and the choke of skin. i'm curious: are there moments in your life when you've felt bliss and unbreakable? maybe you would have respected me if i'd been born a painter. i'm not angry. this is just some uneven writing on the wall until things are balanced between us. my heart can't throw away any more. 260508 what's it to you? who go blather from