(no subject)
That's the thing about having lived my life. I've been through all the things. I can project myself into everything.
Where the Crawdads Sing... I see why my mom said I should read it. And I tried, but it opened with too much description. And I didn't know then, why that was hard for me.
I thought it'd be a love story. And maybe it was...
I wonder if it's like this for everyone. If they see themselves in everything. If we all feel abandoned and alone and afraid. And unbreakable and justified.
I don't know.
Paul told me once that I was the most selfish person he'd ever met. But I've never wanted anything from anyone. Just wanted to be heard. Seen. Understood.
But, don't we all? And we're all too selfish to do that for each other. So we take what we can and blame each other because its not enough, because we don't know ourselves well enough to name what would be enough.
Or maybe it's not like that for everyone. Maybe they've always known they belong here. Maybe wanting is simple when it's there to be had. And maybe it's enough when its not your own deficiency that makes you feel incomplete.