I'm sitting here and I begin to write a story about fireflies, but I can't help but think that possibly I'm falling for you or falling into a place that the love of you is all that matters, but the unsureness of it is beginning to make this place I'm in uncomfortable, and I still sit here and as the reality of the possibilities become apparent, I start to believe that there's a chance that this is where I belong, but I find myself here often... and here I sit, back to writing a story about fireflies, and though fireflies are very interesting, I'm easily taken off on tangents and I'm constantly reminded of when I used to be scared of 4 letter