Luck

This night is a concurrence of makeshift hopes, of distributed dreams, of cases from the textbook on "loss." It is a melting pot for all things ill: storms, tornadoes, broken hearts. And yet, as if some being flicked a switch, it turned around. With a friendly smile and a promising new friendship, the night refrained from ruining everything. Now when you listen, you hear the darkness in it's stillness, as opposed to the calamity that was pushing forth before.

This is more than weather change, its a revelation. One that speaks common sense, which is easily lost when it comes to romance. To dwell is to restrain oneself, and most humans tend to dwell on others. Why would we restrain ourselves for another person? It lacks all sense. Luckily, I'm starting to learn that. I believe the sun will be bright tomorrow, bright enough to keep me looking forward, where the shade is.