“You don’t know me.”
Well, maybe in the grand scheme of it all, I don’t. Maybe, if fortune were any ally of mine, ‘the grand scheme of things’ is only a phrase one uses to allude to your insignificance in a universe of pointlessness. Maybe, by some strike of luck or one streak of opportunity, knowing you is that hazard my distant, muffled voice of reason -which occasionally matches the exact pitch of my mother’s voice- keeps whispering with every click of a finger.
Here’s how my grand scheme of things goes: in a world of breathing trivialities, you are one Post-It just waiting to be either stamped or crumpled. There aren’t many adjectives you can bullet-point yourself across to add any grandeur.
Whether you allude to my failure at people skills or my legitimate fear of the manner in which you deliver the matter, here’s a word from the wiser: