...ne me quitte pas...

The blue house did commemorative crafts in honour of the pope. Drawings, statuettes, pink post-its throughout - and the following, written underneath one of the artistic endeavors: "Later that day, Timmy succumbed to his cancer. He did not go to heaven."

As suddenly as we were hit with a snow storm this weekend, today shines warm and bright. Excessive narcotics is the only thing to explain it.

So the world is changing leaves. Maybe it's time I did the same. It isn't arrogance or elitism speaking, but some people don't deserve to be friends with me. Tired of hurting for you, no more benefits of doubt. I'm just really tired of people not coming through, not living up, disappointing me.