From the Pages of Terrell Dest’s Diary #1


Driving through life looking for a passenger to keep me awake at the wheel, I find myself driving myself into ditches, looking for riches. But the only things I find are SWITCHES. They are the ones that may not be who SHE is.

They tell me time is the antidote to the poison that passes through my veins. Being separated by HER nonexistence is enough for me to drown in my veins. Couplets of couples flow by my eyes until phantom tears flow from my cries of frustration, the duration that will last until I see HER.

They tell me that patience is the solution to the dilution of my perseverance but the thought of finally being within HER embrace, regardless of this long race, that is fueled by the happy ending that I see at the end of HER novel.

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