to my sense of independance
I miss you, which is ridiculous because you never left. As much as I do my best to be self sufficient, in the end I suppose I want what most people (everyone?) wants.wanted.
wanted for the heinous crimes of not being enough. not being happy enough with what was before behind above me, most particularly above me. I can't stop running but I'm not going anywhere because I'm not going to anything, I'm getting away from that which is behind me.
stop being stupid. there's nothing behind me but you, and you'll never catch up now, much as I would like to wait for you.
Mum is renovating the kitchen. Correction, Dad is renovating the kitchen, at mother dearest's request. I wish she wouldnt. I get attached to places, they're safe to get attached to. they dont change, move, run jump hide away.
little girl gathers together some stuffed animals, (when I was little they were my closest friends) (still are?)
(wait, no, this is not about me,this is little girl. not me.)
stop, rewind, repeat. story of my (her?)life. little girl gathers together some stuffed animals, crawls into the bottom drawer of her cupboard and reads by the light of a flashlight. emmerges hours later to find the house in uproar, parentals searching frantically for her. turns around, goes back into the drawer and goes to sleep. I miss that girl who cared nothing for anyone real.
wanted for the heinous crimes of not being enough. not being happy enough with what was before behind above me, most particularly above me. I can't stop running but I'm not going anywhere because I'm not going to anything, I'm getting away from that which is behind me.
stop being stupid. there's nothing behind me but you, and you'll never catch up now, much as I would like to wait for you.
Mum is renovating the kitchen. Correction, Dad is renovating the kitchen, at mother dearest's request. I wish she wouldnt. I get attached to places, they're safe to get attached to. they dont change, move, run jump hide away.
little girl gathers together some stuffed animals, (when I was little they were my closest friends) (still are?)
(wait, no, this is not about me,this is little girl. not me.)
stop, rewind, repeat. story of my (her?)life. little girl gathers together some stuffed animals, crawls into the bottom drawer of her cupboard and reads by the light of a flashlight. emmerges hours later to find the house in uproar, parentals searching frantically for her. turns around, goes back into the drawer and goes to sleep. I miss that girl who cared nothing for anyone real.