while,

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Khalil Gibran - The Prohpet, on Children

It's been a bit since I've wrote, on many reasons I've been extremely frustrated with life. Short to temper, easy to aggravate. I need some chilling time, and I need it now. 

What I haven't began to understand is my addiction to you, my interests are changing again, and with this comes a difference in me.

On the fence, it's always hung. Right near the brambles of the metal spirals, but not too close. But dangerous enough for you to be scared.