You never really know how far you’ll go or how long you’ll last. You never really know when enough is enough or when your hands start to feel cold. You never really know how much you can take or how much longer you can fake.
Distance or strength. Quantity of quality. You never really know someone else’s story or how they might be breaking inside. You never really know another’s limits or how absurd somebody might be. We all have stories that make us who we are. We are all different. We are all mournful.
We are all a bit psychotic. You never really know why or how. You never really know the full story or even the truth. You never really know. I never really know. Nobody-seems-to-really-know.
