It's me again. The same stains on the carpet. The same fake smiles. The same magazines with missing covers and pages stuck together.
How long can I go on wishing every moment of every day that things were different?
It's me again. The same stains on the carpet. The same fake smiles. The same magazines with missing covers and pages stuck together.
How long can I go on wishing every moment of every day that things were different?