I love too hard.
His hair looked like it had been burned by the sun. Red hot.
When I want something, I want it. When I love something, I love it until it turns black and sour.
I am intensity.
Listening to a tape deck in an purple-carpeted car while the Plains--stretching into nothingness--whip past.
I am no quitter.
But I have to admit that things can't go on this way.
"I met somebody."
A pain so bright it steals the words from my throat.
No, things can't go on this way.