(no subject)
I'm constantly feeling like I'm on this mad dash somewhere, to approval, to love, to comfort, to safety. I am the white rabbit yelling that I'm late at all times, the clock moving a second too fast, my thumping heart a little too quick, always arriving to the train station a second too late. Sometimes I pause, I catch my breath, I lean against my bent knees, take a breath, and feel the cold dry air inside my lungs. I feel my bangs stick to the sides of my cheeks with sweat for just a second until I'm running again, a perpetual cross country track that never ends, that never finishes, an outline of a finish line dug out and replaced with weeds.
I'll never be able to reach a ghost of a finish line that never exists but I don't stop myself from trying.
I've been feeling like I'm trying too much with Matilda. Like if I can show her how much I love her, how much dedication I have for her, how much I'm not like I was when I was with Javi, that she'll stay, that she'll like me more, that she won't choose someone better and leave. So I accept her bids way too zelously and go out of my way to extend myself and twist to everything because I want this to work out so much.
The cold air dries out the inside of my nose and leaves me hollow. I crouch against the inside of my thighs and tell myself to get moving - I have nowhere to go and I need to get there quickly.