onehundredfiftyseven.

Why do I keep writing when no one is there listening? Why scream into these pillows, and whisper into the shadows? Nobody hears it anyways. I could always tell Tommy anything, and I knew that he would be listening. Yet, at the same time, I couldn't tell him everything. He has his own burdens and the last thing I would want to do is to give him mine as well. But sometimes I just cant help it. There's just something about him. He has this way of pulling out the words from my mouth like a dentist pulling teeth. Although it should be easier to talk to him about certain things, I can only wish that it was. Still, if there is anyone who could understand where I'm coming from, it would always be him. Always. I've discovered that our issues all that different. Could it be a good thing? Right now, I'm not so sure.

There is no greatness where there is not simplicity, goodness, and truth.