I fucking hope.

I don't know. I just don't know. One day I'll get it.. an epiphany that isn't alcohol induced. My mind and thoughts race at speeds that Danica Patrick wouldn't even have the audacity to sneeze at. One day.. some day, they'll settle down and catch up to hearts and heads all at once.

For some reason I dare not even question, the roof makes me make sense. Does that sentence even make sense?! Does it make sense that a view of a city I grew to hate and learned to love can fucking complete me. I look at it with a biterness that is so saccharin soaked it's oozing with tooth rotting capabilities. It's great. So many loves of my life have enamored themselves in dizzying streetlights and sounds of the city.. with me.

.. I just deleted possibly the best sentence I've ever thought, typed and/or written because it scares me. I hope it scares you just as much, if not more. I hope.