I love how you are faithful to me. Smile for me now, as long as you are satisfied, everything is fine with me. Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishing. I hope ours never dies.
It's been months since I've been in the mood to go out and socialize, and I am worried. Could this be a permanent thing for me? Nah. This, too, shall pass --