It's all the insecurities you have, lying in wait to pounce and stop you in your tracks.
It's contemplating life without your friends.
It's *being* without your friends.
Other people wouldn't understand your own version of hell, or say that it's some *place* people go after they die if they've been bad, but they've certainly got their own. Everyone does, whether they admit it or not.
[text]
It's all the insecurities you have, lying in wait to pounce and stop you in your tracks.
It's contemplating life without your friends.
It's *being* without your friends.
Other people wouldn't understand your own version of hell, or say that it's some *place* people go after they die if they've been bad, but they've certainly got their own. Everyone does, whether they admit it or not.