The scientist keeps the romantic honest,

and the romantic keeps the scientist human.

I don't know where to start. I have this burning urge to do something... a fire in the pit of my chest, pushing forward, forward, forward. Lacking knowledge of the constellations, I blindly head off in any other direction. Not North. More like South East. In the corner.

I miss someone a lot. It's probably the worst feeling that can be felt. Its just funny how I learn the same lesson from different people. Each person forms themselves into you, play doh melting into your boundaries. Forming memories. Missing someone is to be a puzzle that lost a piece to a hungry child. Remembering how that piece felt when it fit so snug, but forced to feel incomplete with it gone.

I rarely give it my all.
You see, I have this terrible habit of disagreeing with time. It's wretchedly ingrained within me; I was raised by kuku clocks. I don't know where I'm supposed to be going (what is forward on this board of life?) so i try to sit real still and have it pass by. But it doesnt. A little warmth before the snow still leads to cold, and the added bitterness of knowing heat in the first place. Never take the sun for granted.

And once it's gone, don't dare forsake the moon light.