I Was The Life And She Was

I Can’t Even Think About What Life “could Have Been” Like In Boston, Without Crying. It’s Like Deja-vu, I Don’t Think Me And Boston Were Ever Meant To Be.

Perhaps I’ve Been Rushing My Whole Entire Life, Jumping Into Things Headfirst Without Thinking Them Through. Running Through The Days Without Noticing The Minutes.

She Strived For Perfection. She Loved Setting Herself Tasks, Sometimes Impossible Ones, To Prove To Her Heart That Underneath Every Seemingly Ugly Thing There Was Something Beautiful Inside.

There Were Hundreds Of Them Spread Across The Floor, Each Telling Its Own Tale Of Triumph Or Sadness, Each Letter Representing A Phase In Her Life. She Had Kept Them All.

Seeming And Being Are Not One And The Same.