Either you’re too special or I just don’t know you enough. The far end of this relationship is based in a lie, this fantasy I’ve been kneeling after is just a product of the pain you’ve caused. I can’t change the past, I can’t speak to destiny, but I can tell you in how many ways you’ve changed me.
The world where I come from is throbbing with cowardice and deceit, and I’m trying so hard to get my head away from its pull. But I came to know you, and you seem like you could fit perfectly in that world, yet your mask makes you look so beautiful. No Galisova, I can’t imagine you without that dress. I’m not like that.
But nobody knows the world I’m from, I don’t think it exists in the measurements of this hypothesis. I’ll just leave the scriptures here.
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