"...i'm filling a hole where the rain came in...."
The eye of the storm exists somewhere in my deep psyche. I try to fill it up with chocolate chips and cookie edges and frosting and the outsides of candy bars and it hasn't felt full enough since at least 1962. Before that I can't remember.
I've often asked...do I purposely walk into the storm? Does feeling bad feel safe and familiar? Or am I just weary from being everything I think I should be - to everyone (except me?). I wasn't present for life's most valuable lessons. I was too busy rehearsing how to ask.
Sleep and summer's bright morning sunshine is the best medicine in the world. Or CT or da Crue.
Ramblings of separation anxiety. My hell, defined.
I've often asked...do I purposely walk into the storm? Does feeling bad feel safe and familiar? Or am I just weary from being everything I think I should be - to everyone (except me?). I wasn't present for life's most valuable lessons. I was too busy rehearsing how to ask.
Sleep and summer's bright morning sunshine is the best medicine in the world. Or CT or da Crue.
Ramblings of separation anxiety. My hell, defined.