OR IS IT SIXTEEN LOST-FOUND TELLEGRAMS
my life is just a viious cycle of "What if's.." and "Just waits.." Eternal happiness and perfection are no longer at the tip of my fingers, but miles out of reach. They're more vertical than the highest shelf, they're out of my dead horizon They're no longer annoyingly just out of reach. But they're three carrier pigeons, one hogwart's owl, one message in a bottle, and four lost-found, lost-found, lost-found, lost-found tellegrams away.