That Do Or Die Undercurrent, Fuckin' A.

Brain is caught in a vice, eyes are hot and I feel emotion directly behind them. Anger, sadness, fear. Hollow, cold, pale, empty. I can’t think. This day, this fucking day. I should’ve, yeah, I, but… there aren’t even any words. I shouldn't have to think that way, it all would have come out in its own time, can I. Just. Get. A. Little. Trust. It’s all so stupid, and illogical, and out of control, spinning spinning spinning. Does it matter to you, what I think, or am I still just the innocent sixteen year-old, afraid to live, having never been trusted with the ability to make my own decisions?

I am trying, so hard, and as long as I learn I’m going to make mistakes.

Isn’t this true for all of us?

Of course I am afraid. Of course of course of course. There is an ocean of the unknown. An absolute ocean. But you've got to trust me to wade through at a pace that's reasonable. Thoughts are problematic today. The commune, Anne and Pat's wedding weekend and that feeling I came away with then, last night, my trek to washington, it all feels so mother fucking far away! And I can't seem to tie these strings into anything cohesive! It has been awhile since the last time I cried, and I haven't got any fucking tissues in my office.

Breathing in, I calm my body.