There's a giant suitcase on my bed. There's no strength left in my arms to remove it. We can't break broken. I'll sleep round it, like I have for a while. Now on the monologue we need a sizeable garden, not hard to maintain. We need a bigger kitchen than the current one. Wait really. These random acts of kindness are short and few. How does someone that doesn't know you at all seem to think they can connect on a deeper level. You don't know me. You've heard about me. If it was you, what would you do? It's two very different things, a bathroom and an en-suite. Decisions, decisions, decisions. I have this little wish that mobile phones had never been invented or the generation I'm taking part in didn't possess this innate ability to get up and go. How would you react? But I haven't rubbed the right lamp yet, sorry Aladdin. This is semi-interaction. I'm yet to let myself publish anything more fitting of this nature. This isn't all about a broken heart.
Where does the good go?