I am not my job.

( Time means everything. If not, maybe, a lot more than distance. )

A/N: This feels weird to write right now and I don't know why I still rewrote it. Wake me up, anybody?

( I've always wondered how it feels for Dad to not have a son... I have no idea how it translated to this, though. )

A/N: Vain attempt at fighting all the blocks I could possible have. I can't write, I lost my photo mojo and thesis screening is scaring the shit out of me. I need to know what people really think about my work because I feel like I'm this overrated bitch in everything I try to be good at.
A/N2: I've had enough romance and this little crisis is distracting me. I'm sorry.

Please do leave your thoughts~