Fate Has A Way Of Messing Up Things That Seem So Incredibly Perfect
Fate, always throwing a wrench. A sick irony.
Fate, always throwing a wrench. A sick irony.
I couldn’t imagine being without you. I didn’t know who I would be without you. I let myself depend on you, I let myself be so captivated by the façade you were. I let you win. I hate losing.
These refugees are coming from an ISIS controlled and dominated country. You cannot simply vet someone and know for certain that they do not have extremist views. They could be traveling with their families whom do not have those views. They are living amongst extremists; they could be sympathizers.
Everything and every person is always just out of reach for me. Happiness is standing on the other side of the street from me, I can see it clearly. Then a bus passes and it disappears. It’s like a sick twisted game of tag, except I’m always the one chasing rather than running.