My curtain is still messed up from earlier. I just typed like a thousand things out, trying to get at what I'm really trying to say, really trying hard to be articulate and poetic and straightforward and even trying to make it a good blog post, give you something good to read with all my thoughts about everything going on and just really let it all out. And I've finally figured out how to say it!
I'm scared.
Which means all the worst scenarios are having an absolute circus in my head, just waiting for me to give each one the audience it needs to carry on until I find the maturity to shut it off. And it's funny that this feeling is now, being that lately I've felt like I've whole-heartedly come to terms with the idea that life is actually not out to get me. It's actually as good as I want it to be, and there is no reason anything ever should be stressful because why would I want that, I wouldn't, so why would I let it be.
Talk is cheap.
Or maybe I just push comfortable away.
