You know my story. I've been telling it to anyone I could find. If I would lose you, I'd lose my mind, over and over agian until next time. Lights out to expectations. Goodbye to bad intentions. There's nothing wrong with letting go. I know all about you. Give me a pen and I'll write you a book of how we both fucked up, walked away, got back just in time to make up for the new years. I send you stationary. It wasn't ordinary. You got it and told me that everything would be O.K. Next morning came conclusion: It's too late to start all over. (Sorry about the past)