I come home, head to my room, hang up my coat, look god in the eye and ask him, " my darling, what is the sole purpose for the month of feburary? nothing good comes of febuararys (with the exception of caelayn and monika of course), but still, what good comes of this tragic month after the glory of january and the progressive era that is march?"
Alas,
I'm swiftly approaching the light at the end of the January tunnel, and i would quite like to turn around. yet, somehow i find i am still jus like the dust you sweep off of surfaces you rarely touch, im forever falling.
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