when i wake up my stomach is so full of emotion. it’s growling and hurting. it’s a tight knot – either this, or something made entirely of knots, like that scarf that my father gave me for a forgotten christmas. that was long ago, of course, and it was a last present from him. i still wear the entirely-made-of-knots scarf because it’s multicolored, soft to the touch and warm – just what one would expect a freaking scarf to be.
back on my stomach where the butterflies had planted roots. butterflies or flies with butter spread on them, it sticks their wings together so they won’t be able to fly and messes them up and freaks them out and ruins their ultimate purpose in life – to land on your piece of toast or whatever breakfast you’re having if you’re eating at all
but right, right, you’re not that girl anymore – you do eat now and you don’t cry, and you’ve changed, and you’ve grown up. and you’ve taken your time to grow up and be courageous and do the things you want to do and be the things you want to be
how does one feel, however, when they produce every possible emotion that their soul is able to produce and they still never manage to succeed and be enough? well of course, one feels like crap, so hooray for the mental breakdown and congratulations on your strong and tight and settled inner self that got destroyed again, exposed and vulnerable
turns out i’m not that strong after all, something broke inside of me, something i don’t think i’ll get back soon – if ever. all this turns me more into a person, it grows the woman out of me, but i’d much prefer to be a girl now, a little one, whose only purpose for the day after this day would be baking a batch of cookies or something else, ordinary and conventional, but safe
i said, i love you
and you said, i don’t know