![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I hate when you reach that point of pain, where you feel like you're decaying, that at least one of the layers of you is rotting and falling apart.
I hate when you jump to the worst conclusion, because it's what's happened over and over and you may as well brace yourself because it's happened over and over again, and even though it's made you stronger you beg that this one time nothing will happen. That everything will be okay. That the sand will remain unturned.
But in the end, you have no idea what's going to happen. You can't trust your gut, because your gut is lost in the churning and sickness of your stomach. All you have to trust is the reel of thought in your head, and the ocean of fear, horror, and sorrow that lies beside it. It's torture.
I hate when you jump to the worst conclusion, because it's what's happened over and over and you may as well brace yourself because it's happened over and over again, and even though it's made you stronger you beg that this one time nothing will happen. That everything will be okay. That the sand will remain unturned.
But in the end, you have no idea what's going to happen. You can't trust your gut, because your gut is lost in the churning and sickness of your stomach. All you have to trust is the reel of thought in your head, and the ocean of fear, horror, and sorrow that lies beside it. It's torture.
