Everything I write in this consequence of words I call my blog never seems to do my mind any justice. This is supposed to help. Does it?
It's always worry. It's pausing and replaying in my mind, that certain time in my life that meant everything to me only because it ruined me. My subjective innocence is gone. At the peak of the new me, everything crumbled.
It's me making everything the way it is now. It's me making the mistakes and making the yesterdays come back to life. Every place I go I take a whole different part of myself from that point in time and throw it in the face of my frame of mind. Taunting it. Seeing how far I can really go with so many parts, so many phases, personalities, changes.
They always say when you think you're alone, you aren't. They say there's always someone else going through a similar stage or predicament. I differ. I refuse to agree with something that's merely just a ray of hope.
Wait it out; I know, I know.
Is this procrastination yet again or am I finally going to be proven wrong?