the randomness of it all

And some people taught themselves out of happiness one million times, but not even once into it. Because you can't.
And sometimes our lives' stories happen so much faster than our lives themselves that we can't catch up and just be. So we follow stories never written that we can read on our faces.
And then we live so much, so many real lives, written by us, for us, against us, that in the end we never stop needing imaginary friends.
We all have ghosts tattooed on the inside. Of our skulls, of our eyelids, of our toes, of our oceans.
Make me the most me I can be, and we won't call it love, let's say it's just a beautiful toleration of each other.


(may contain some hints or traces of extremely loud and incredibly close)