People try. People try, and sometimes they fail, but mainly - people *try*, and that's what makes me hope. That's what fills me up so much sometimes I can't take it, and there's a giddiness, an effervescence, that bubbles up, through me. I feel like a human coca cola, or sprite, or something, and laughter is inevitable.
Love is a choice, I was told once. You make the choice when you wake up in the morning to love, or to isolate yourself, to go through the day as an untouchable entity, and you go to bed tired, and weary. There is no reason for that, even if you wake up and feel like the ceiling above you is too close.
But enough of my proslethizing. It might be cold outside, but you guys -- really. Just look at the sky.