I hunger for the weekend, waiting for the glorious to arrive, so I can stop this cycle of books, paper and ink. Of physical and mental exhaust.
February is coming to a close, and- I have survived the storms. One thing I've learnt so far is, that I can never be alone. And as much as I deny
it, I cling onto every ounce of love you show me like a little girl clings on to her mother on the first day of kindergarten. I am nothing but empty
space if you aren't there to fill it. I never used to be like this, you just began to mean too much to me.

Fear creeps up like a thief in the night.