Thoughts of a Violinist Giraffe

Maybe it's time I say farewell; maybe the time, time, time, time, the time has closed upon us: me, the cause of too much fuss made to make this worthwhile, the fires of affection burned to ash. We were through before the first signs of mutual adoration had sprouted. Quite possibly, my own words have outed me from any possibility of riding out this train together. I've taken different trains of thought these days, it'd be odd to stay on          the same old forever. We have long since taken             different planes, walked separate waysides that are lesser tread by varied faces. Had we found proper letters and symbols, words and sentences to say                                             what we mean, would we still choose opposite                   ...

Preferences have a way of being adopted early enough                           to seem like family. In second grade, during a spelling bee contest, it came down to two      individuals in the classroom: me,                because obviously I'd be awesome at spelling things, and this lovely Russian American girl with brunette hair, a disarming smile, smooth voice, and sharp wit that quite easily spelled the word "equestrian". At that age, I was aware of a couple things: one, how baffled I was that I couldn't spell the word "equestrian", and two, how Alex, let's call her Alex, was absolutely mesmerizing for the rest of the school year. It would have been for the rest of my young life but unfortunately,                                     ...