This is sad but true. Nobody really knows the real me. My deepest secrets, my darkest thoughts, my wildest dreams. And I am fine with that. I am a complex person and I don't expect people to understand me.
“Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe.” ” There once was a moon, as beautiful as can be, only the stars could fathom, but the sun could not see. The sun so radiant, he burns so bright.