Bus ride home

Crappy.

Today, I just wish I'd wake up in my bed in my own room with the pink curtains drowning the sun's rays, and realize everything was just a fading dream.

But I'm wide awake, on a bus ride home.

Happiness is like a tiny little spire of the church you see from a distance. You know it's near, but not quite. It gets bigger everyday. You get nearer everyday. But not as near as you'd want to be. Until you can't see the whole church, until you're not holding its frames, and all you can see are the spires, then you're not as close as you'd want to be.

One can only act tough for so long.