Why is it... that every time I find something that I love, it leaves me? This is in context to a lot of things.
It… never fails. It’s like Dog is after me or something. What did I ever do wrong? Was it that I was born? Maybe my mother is right in saying that I should never have graced this Earth.
But…
I know that I am here for a reason. I… have saved one person, I know of it.
There are so many things that I love, but only a few that I fear to lose.
A friend.
A story idea.
A love.
These… are the things that I don’t want to lose. They complete me.
So why do I find myself fearing every new day that the sun rises?
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A-chan's Documents of Complete Randomness
I'm going to write what is ever on my mind in here, Which, well, is always something random. Have fun!
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