There is something painfully beautiful about sadness.
Something I love about feeling trapped within my own feelings and thoughts.

Something so good about giving in.

Can we help the way we feel? We can proceed with caution… but perhaps I need to embrace myself. I used to think that sadness was my primary inspiration, but perhaps its love. Love is painful, its delightful, exciting,

I don’t even know what to call how I feel. I am already in so deep, I’m furiously trying to rebuild the walls I tore down in such a rush. I am listening to the same song on repeat over and over again because it feels like the words are bleeding from my soul.

I can’t sleep.

How do you capture something without scaring it away? Hunting was never my forte.

Am I sick?
I’ve always been told this was sickness, this intensity. Overwhelming emotions, crying from happiness, shaking, muttering reassurances to myself, doing the sign language alphabet repeatedly because I like to do something with my hands.

Chewing on my lip ring, tongue ring. Orally fixated, because it stops me from talking.

Keep me away from keyboards…

Perhaps I need something to completely obliterate this cage I’ve built around myself. I tell myself its for my own protection, but I am beginning to see that it is hindering me. There’s no room to fly in this thing.

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