I've moved again, and I have some massive guilt over it. I feel like I've disappointed people during times in their lives when I shouldn't have.
To be fair, guilt is sort of my modus operandi,so I guess I won't take it so seriously. I will say this; If I said I loved you, I meant it. I don't throw that word around carelessly.
I am constantly moving and changing. I visit your life,and I leave at whim: Some calling in my center pulls me away to other places and I think I'll never be still.To be still is to die: Time is fleeing so I run with it, trying to keep up so it won't leave me behind.
I am an incomplete algorithm.Mania?
A storm, a Traveler. I am sorry.