drewsterrooster9
Childish games. Pouring salt on snails, it feels like alcohol in an open wound. It stings, it burns. Eventually, you come back around, but the pain is always there. Hidden, burrowed deeply. Just like your first love.
I drove away to hide, to runaway from the evil that followed me. I went on for miles and miles, but my secrets still leached onto me. I should have listened when they told me, you can run, but you can't hide. Eventually, you have to face your ghosts. No matter the cost.
Driving on the endless road to nowhere. If you have no destination, you have no expectations. You are open to experience. Open to see, explore. Driving on that endless road to nowhere. It will give you a few stories to tell.
I see the wall. The red brick stares me in the face. It's mortar smiles. It's ready for me to come. For me, to finally come home. He taps on the bricks, and it appears. The gateway to the city. Diagon Alley.