My hesitance of Not-Knowing-What-On-Earth-Is-Going-On-Here has yet to subside and materialize into some form of tangible concept or solution. And honestly, it worries me. The constant precariousness has left me guarded, refined and perpetually self-conscious. And on some days it's ok, even good, but then something shifts.
I don't understand why you act like nothing ever happened,
I had gotten so, so good at holding an infallible sense of control over my feelings instead of allowing them to become subject to the whim of another. I don't know what you did to make my clinical walls of self-preservation collapse, all my precautions about not
have disappeared, and I know,
I'll never get used to you.
|Sourced from We Heart It|
|I wear a crown of paper flowers|