Jan. 9th, 2014


Jan. 9th, 2014 10:49 pm
aravelle: A picture of a lamia bathing by a window, in a wooden tub. (Default)

 I was right. My time of bravery is coming. My break is ending; the ice is beginning to melt. I need to tighten my bootstraps and chin up.. but dear god I don't want to. I don't want to be brave. I'm scared. I don't want to take risks, I don't want to be uncomfortable, I don't want to shed light on the parts of me shriveled in the dark.

I guess I didn't expect this. I didn't expect it, because it wasn't bleeding books status. Part of me is still a skeptic about all this, wondering if my hot reptilian fiance is wish fulfillment, if I'm hearing what I want to hear when I talk to my niece, that I'm arguably imagining it all when my feet tingle and legs feel like they melt when I shift Over There. I need to just accept that I sound like a goddamned lunatic, and that's okay. That my "being delusional" is glorious, because these delusions help me cope and have helped me grow as a human being. I was weak before them, now I bud. My time to blossom is to come.

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