(no subject)
She said that I was an ice cube on a burn. ...But I love her. Sometimes when I sit in my apartment I get an out of nowhere feeling that a huge round hole is being carved out of my stomach by the butterflies in there. Usually you can calm yourself down with activities or people or even thinking certain thoughts as remedies, but now I find myself in a situation that I almost completely controlled and chose to get in so reaching out to those close by and efficient fixes is impossible. I dont want to be an ice cube. I want to think that sometime, somewhere down the line, I am going to prove my motive to everyone else. I want my incapacitating feelings to be justified, understood, admired, returned.