If I’m being honest, right now…it almost physically hurts the structure of my veins to write. It’s like I’ve constricted them to hold everything in and now I’m having to suffer the ache of them so long, being bound tight.
There’s really nowhere else for the tears to go. I didn’t think there was another row, but officially this is the bottom.
I don’t want to hold that type of aggression anymore. I know if I don’t soon stop I’ll be on my knees right beside my emotions in the floor.
Funny how when it’s your low, you don’t see it approaching. Almost like a stop sign on an unfamiliar back road with a dense fog encroaching.
The rush of correction, not going over the other side’s embankment allows you to suck it up, straighten the heading, choose a better verb, admit complaisance.
Careening is too real. I’d rather just be riding coasters alone. Simply done sharing my anguish. It’s just something I can no longer condone.
What I say is what I get and I’m done with all that I’ve denied. It’s about time my head and heart got on the same page, to just let us… well me and I, peacefully coincide.
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