I feel this feeling that I hate. This feeling of utter ickyness at the bottom of my stomach. It resembles oil in a tar pit. I know I did wrong as I usually do. I keep having to remind myself to breath and that I'll be okay.
I'll be okay
Let me take on the burden he had told me. Share your pain with me. Let me in. I met a wonderful individual and I pushed him away.
This is my pain. This is my insecurities. I have dealt with them myself. There is a prideful feeling of knowing you can get yourself out of this oil pit, on your own. Alive.
Let me not regret this moment too much.
Girl
“Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy.”
― Leo Buscaglia
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