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Well, what did you expect?I don't know you well.
I don't know you at all.
That doesn't seem to matter, though.
Not when I'm starting to fall.
There is no one here who can hold me up.
There is no one here who can keep me standing.
I'm struggling to stay above the water.
And yet, everyone is still so demanding.
You make things easy.
And you make me smile.
I don't know what to call this, really.
Some kind of test or even a trial.
The wonders of regrets...This isn't a first and it won't be the last.
So forgive me but our time has passed.
You see, these blocks aren't in my hand just for fun.
I'm building up a wall and I'm gonna look one for number one.
So pretty please, don't worry.
It's just little old me.
I'll be just fine, this time.
It's too bad we can't rewind.
I'm done trying to repair a sinking ship,
While everything around me starts to rip
And I feel like the water is rushing in too fast.
So many false smiles that have been cast.
It's like a cat with a string.
Or a toddler with a toy.
It's like a dog with a bone.
Or a girl with a boy.
President of Who?Stop.
Don't pull away like that.
I know you're really angry with me
But it all happened so fast.
You see, there are things that have happened here
That I don't even really quite understand myself.
When I was alone with her,
It was like all of my worries would just melt
And float into the sea.
Then everything would feel like it was just fine...
Though nothing was okay
And surely, nothing was fixed in time.
We are left with one of 10,000 options.
And we are left pulling on threads.
I should have walked away a year ago
But then I might be dead.
So tell me, what do you need from me?
Where do you want me? And where should I go from here?
Mrs. President, it was a lovely evening tonight.
The stars were out and the moon was too.
Who would have thought that I would have spent it with you?
Well, I don't think your husband did...
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
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