d*land

Much Further With It.

They are fears that come to visit. They are the things that make me act rash, and stupid, and 13.

I'm saving information like the money I can't. Stashed away under the bed, I'm keeping important things out. I'm leaving details, and drawing big, broad outlines of what may or may not be happening.

Because I'm afraid.

I'm afraid that you can't like me. I'm afraid of the words that happen, spoken or other wise. I'm afraid of implications and underlying meaning. The undertones of adjectives, and possessive nouns, inactive verbs.

I'm afraid of tripping up on some trap, before I see it. I listen to the wrong song at the wrong time in the wrong place. Say things with double meanings, but you can't see my eyes enough to tell what's behind them.

You're a steady puzzled voice of reason, with not enough.

I'm afraid of you. Of how your brain works, and the things that come out of it. Synchonicity. Radio stations.

I'm afraid of myself. Of how my brain works, and the places it goes.

I'm afraid we will never reach the same conclusion.

words are so cheap
but they can turn out expensive
words like conviction can turn into a sentence

12.09.02 || 8:48 pm

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