I don't think about it. I don't want it to be a big deal. It's not. I'm hoping it won't really feel like my birthday at all so that way it'll be easier to brush it off.
I'll let you know the outcome. Maybe.
I'm losing my ability to write. It's not that I lack inspiration. That's seeming to come very easily lately... I just struggle to write well. It's all from intimidation. The pressure to not so much "beat you", but to at least be at your level. If I were to write a poem the length of yours, it would have taken me a good chunk of my day. I can't imagine you were sat down for much longer than 30 minutes. Not that it's poor quality by any means... Everything just comes so naturally for you. You're so good. At everything.
I'm trying so hard to keep up the walls. I pack more cement layers onto my heart every day...but you've got this new chemical that seems to melt the stone away... You don't realize what you do.
I'm too scared. I'm too exhausted. I'm too frustrated. But I want so badly to be saved.
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