I keep dreaming about being a child: carefree, wild, and wasting time. I'm not old and gray yet, but whenever I have a spare moment, I find myself dwelling on the past. Maybe this nostalgia is a way of coping with the fear of death.
Theme: I hope every sensitive person who struggles with low self-esteem can see loving someone as a gift, not a source of pain.
It's written so well in big letters, why doesn't anyone read it?