It's (always, never) too (early, late) to go home.

I'm so (not) over you. (But, And), I am (not) over waiting for you.
I 'carpe diem' the hell out of every day.
Just when I grab the bull by the horns, it manages to wiggle it's way out.
My (insecurities, fate) loosen(s) my fingers just enough so it all starts to slip away.

It's so much (more, less) about hating the circumstance than hating any of you.
I wish (everyone, nobody) would/could hurry and catch up to my flighting hope.

Every day begins with the right foot, and usually ends with a weak knee.
I rebound like it's my job.
My job is to live my life. I do that "to the fullest" thing 85% of the time. I'm just getting (tired, started).

I'm tired of putting on the smile.
The forced smile used to permeate through my body, effecting my entire state of being.
It's so routine now and has lost its touch.

I'm looking (for, past) the next step.

85% never amounts to much. It's < perfect.

I worry as much as I breathe. You changed me. (...better, ...worse)
Escaping sorrows and looking toward the sun used to be my favorite pastimes.
I want to pull an "about me" section out of the non-existant archives and post it again.

Tell me you have the time. Now.
...either of you.