always so afraid to get comfortable, to allow things to progress past a certain point in my heart. afraid the second i give in to any sort of sentimentality, i will be slapped across the face and dropped on the side of the road.
'you spoil me...' he remarks.
not wanting to admit, even to myself, that i'm purposely trying not to cheat, to skip out on things. that i am actually doing everything in my power [and what is sometimes portrayed to be outside my power, even] to not fuck things up. for ME not to be the one that fucks things up.
because the second i admit i don't want things to end... it will be the beginning of the end.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
the embattled hearts collide
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