"What's terrible is to pretend that the second-rate is first-rate. To pretend that you don't need love when you do; or you like your work when you know quite well you're capable of better."
I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock hem up DOES rejoice. Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend.