(no subject)
This, dead medium, is safety in stagnation. The eye of the storm, if you will. What monster have I fed in telling you truth?
On paper, I am clean. We do not touch and yet it permeates my soul and corrupts the life I'm living. Like a blinding light in a cave full of bats, you illuminate my own fallacies, and I fight the urge to flee.
Patience. Do you understand what I'm saying? Will you lose all respect for me? Are you slipping every day I stay here?
I can't say I would blame you. It's complicated. It's messy.
In May I run away and hope to wash away all manner of sins. Maybe someday I will be that girl worth having again. But not today.
On paper, I am clean. We do not touch and yet it permeates my soul and corrupts the life I'm living. Like a blinding light in a cave full of bats, you illuminate my own fallacies, and I fight the urge to flee.
Patience. Do you understand what I'm saying? Will you lose all respect for me? Are you slipping every day I stay here?
I can't say I would blame you. It's complicated. It's messy.
In May I run away and hope to wash away all manner of sins. Maybe someday I will be that girl worth having again. But not today.