sometimes i wonder if im just in it all for the drama, if i am subconciously making my life out to be some great tragedy, working for the applause. then, i think, maybe it's the little things that count. Maybe there is more romance in holding hands in the parking lot than there is in yearning over picture books to elliot smith. maybe, there is more passion in two pairs of eyes looking for eachother, than two pairs catching by chance. maybe love is more beautiful without tear-stained cheeks. perhaps, in favor of this great tragedy, i let those small things slip away. but how to drop the act is hard to know, when you are unsure of the stage.