The pencil and ruler-

I hold in my hands.

There's this fine line between passion and extremity, endurance and recklessness, high and addiction. As with comfort, and love. I do see that I thread a very fine line, and I know not which side I'd like to land, or given the choice, where to draw the line.

The easiest way out? To go back into my little shell, hide, deny, lie. Live in my little illusory world, where no one knows, but me, and it. But I've been there, done that. It wasn't that nice.