We're believers in fate, but does fate believe in us? I fall through text messages filled with wishful thoughts and romantic words. Throw in some facial hair and i'll tie my own blindfold. I climb up so high and then close my eyes as I let go, blind to what's beneath me. I think it's an addiction; I'm addicted to possibilities ... possibilities without any possibility in reality. It's so hard to be content with what's in front of me when I'm always wondering what's not in my sight. You're just a ghost now, even though you never truly existed beyond various modes of communication. You exist in my head, and why I'm attaching value to you, i'll never know. Perhaps i'm addicted to complications and the impossible. Where's my outlet? I can't find it.

I'm waiting to go off.

The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.