Constantly searching and yearning for something to go wrong. For a reason not to care. For a reason not to believe. To find something concretely unacceptable about him.
Why? Why can’t I just sit back and finally enjoy the butterflies I have been chasing after what seems to be my whole life?
The music, the magic, the quiet, calming, unspoken comfort between us… it’s all there.
Why am I trying so hard to ruin this for myself?
Maybe it’s fear. An emotion I have not really addressed yet.
Have I fallen in love with the lifestyle I used to cry over? The role of the bitter, single woman with eyes wider, older and warmer than one would expect- THAT is me. Do I lose who I am if I find a man who warms my heart and challenges my spirit? I don’t know how to be me without the fear of being alone but being okay with that.
What will I write about?
Do I want a life that produces poetry or a life that inspires it?
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