broken
tonight there was a big fight between want and need and need won.
the need to grow and the need to explore the world and the need to be by myself.
except the want of a lover and everything that word encompasses (a lot.) is so hard to ignore.
i feel like i'm stuttering
i've always been told to leave things the way i found them, but i left this one broken. and i didn't mean to break anything i just wanted to breathe but there's this guilt i can't shake and i feel absolutely deflated.
but shouldnt there be some relief? my needs have supposedly been met? and i finished the chapter and closed the book before it got scarier. because it was getting uncomfortable and kind of tasted bad, nothing like the beautiful chapters preceeding it.
but the things is, i feel like i'll be able to pick the book back up again someday and start reading where i left off. But instead of kind of wincing, i think i'll enjoy it a lot more. I think it'll be the kind of book i like because i'll be older and wiser and more complete.
whatever, books are my friends. metaphors are not. (this book is a best friend and i hope i haven't scarred it because i would never be able to forgive myself)
i feel like a little kid who threw her doll out the window just to see it fly--except it broke. and now she's crying like a big baby.
the need to grow and the need to explore the world and the need to be by myself.
except the want of a lover and everything that word encompasses (a lot.) is so hard to ignore.
i feel like i'm stuttering
i've always been told to leave things the way i found them, but i left this one broken. and i didn't mean to break anything i just wanted to breathe but there's this guilt i can't shake and i feel absolutely deflated.
but shouldnt there be some relief? my needs have supposedly been met? and i finished the chapter and closed the book before it got scarier. because it was getting uncomfortable and kind of tasted bad, nothing like the beautiful chapters preceeding it.
but the things is, i feel like i'll be able to pick the book back up again someday and start reading where i left off. But instead of kind of wincing, i think i'll enjoy it a lot more. I think it'll be the kind of book i like because i'll be older and wiser and more complete.
whatever, books are my friends. metaphors are not. (this book is a best friend and i hope i haven't scarred it because i would never be able to forgive myself)
i feel like a little kid who threw her doll out the window just to see it fly--except it broke. and now she's crying like a big baby.