It's strange, how we can be so certian in one moment of ourselves and so uprooted the next.
Did anyone say anything? was there an awkward silence that brought a tension to you limbs, willing them to give way to gravity and all of it's downfalls?
I think too much, I talk to little and i definately read to much. This is a shame for me as i love to immerse myself in a fiction or reality that is not my own.. to be able to paint my own image of someones heart and feel what they are feeling. Blah Blah Blah. Realistically, i am too emotionally unstable to books that are anything less than childrens stories. Feeling what these characters feel only revamps my insecurities as the words printed on the pages of the book jump up and re assemble themselves in my own living literature.
Somedays i will be so sure that a fear is gone that i willingly tuck it to sleep and pull the cover over it's ugly head. And then you will speak, and the mountains fucking shift, the planets align and i fall to pieces over worry and regret that i fooled myself into a confidence of secuirty that, it seems, you will never give me.
" I've never had a girlfriend as paranoid as you, no one else ever worried this much"
"That's because you loved them so sincerly they had no reason to fear, and you still do.. which is why i don't sleep at night"
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