Sometimes, it’s okay. Sometimes, i laugh. Sometimes, i’m amazed. Sometimes, i don’t know what to say. Sometimes, I’m quiet. Sometimes, i wish for quiet. Sometimes, it’s enough. Sometimes, i make excuses. Sometimes, I feel right. Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes I’m alone, and tears are choked out of my eyes, and i sit by myself again, like a defensive little girl, folded within my own arms, and i don’t know why after so long, i’m still doing that.