I could sit here and paint a vivid picture of how you make me feel. The rosy pinks and warm reds of our time spent together. Or I could paint the horrendous tendencies of my insides for you to interpret. I bet then you’d back out I bet then you’d understand. I bet then you’d realize it isn’t wise to feel for me. But it’s wise in my eyes because I need you I need it to keep me on the note of hope. That note of hope that acts as my drive, it was always so hard before. And now it’s as hard as ever again.